


meet me in the dark

by superhoney



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Background Claire/Kaia, Baker Dean Winchester, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Bartender Dean Winchester, Dean/Cas Tropefest, Dom/sub Undertones, Happy Ending, Illustrated, Light Bondage, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Ruby/Sam Winchester, Paranormal, Past Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester, Past Castiel/Others, Switching, Urban Fantasy, Vampire Castiel (Supernatural), Vampire Politics, other background relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 04:02:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 57,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18683734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhoney/pseuds/superhoney
Summary: One morning, a vampire walks into a bakery.It sounds like a bad joke, but it's just another day for Dean Winchester. Life in Lawrence has been impressively calm since the revelation that supernatural creatures walk among us, and Dean has met his fair share of them-- but none quite like Castiel. Luckily for him, his interest is reciprocated, but not so luckily, their budding connection is threatened by the rising tension in the city: someone is turning new vampires at an alarming rate. Castiel is reluctant to start anything serious in face of this situation, and Dean has been burned by vampires before, but as danger grows, so too does their connection.Now all that's left is to find the bad guy, save the city, and figure out how to negotiate a relationship between a very human baker-slash-bartender and an immortal being of darkness.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the story I intended to write for this challenge. But I've been wanting to write vampire!Cas for a very long time, and I hope you love him as much as I do.
> 
> I sound like a broken record at this point, but I have been blessed to work with the enormously talented Aceriee once again! Her artwork is, as always, breathtaking, and I couldn't ask for a better creative partner. Please check out the art masterpost on [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18642664) or [tumblr](https://missaceriee.tumblr.com/tagged/tropefest19superhoney) and leave her some well-deserved love and appreciation.
> 
> Thank you also to Anna, my beta, for the read-through and encouragement, to Diamond for the hand-holding and feedback on a few critical scenes, and to the rest of the chat for their endless support and enthusiasm. Thank you also to our wonderful mods, for bringing this particular challenge into the world and nurturing both it and its participants ever since. 
> 
> While this fic was influenced by a number of different vampire stories, particular credit is due to Charlaine Harris' Sookie Stackhouse novels and Robin McKinley's Sunshine. Title is from Marianas Trench's Rhythm of Your Heart.

It wasn’t unusual for people to be lined up outside the bakery before they opened, but Dean still stopped dead in his tracks as he rounded the corner. He blinked, looked down at his phone, and frowned. “Hey,” he called out. “You do know we’re not open for another two hours, right?”

The man leaning against the brick wall straightened up gracefully, the glow of the streetlight doing little to illuminate his features. “Yes,” he said. His voice was deep, a hint of gravel in it that sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. Whether it was the good kind or the bad kind, he couldn’t be sure. 

Dean waited, but the man didn’t elaborate. “Okay,” he said eventually. “Well. I’m going to go in and start baking. You can hang out here, I guess, or come back when we open at seven.”

With a gracious incline of his head, the man melted back into the shadows. As Dean brushed past him to unlock the door to Campbell Cakes and Co., he felt the weight of his stare on his back, but resisted the urge to turn around for another look.

He pushed the strange encounter from his mind as he began prepping for the day. These few hours before opening were his favourites, the peace and quiet and the delicious aromas that slowly began to fill the space. He turned up the ancient radio in the corner of the kitchen and pulled down his set of battered mixing bowls, scanning over the list his mother had left pinned to the corkboard the night before. 

Flipping between stations to avoid obnoxious ads, he caught the end of the first news broadcast of the day. “Sunny this morning, but with clouds settling in later this afternoon,” the announcer finished. “Coming up at six: the latest developments in West-Med Labs' quest to bring stability to the supernatural, and the uncertain fate of Lawrence’s blood banks.” 

Dean sighed and flipped back to the classic rock station. The ads were still on, but he’d take them over the news. It was too early for him to process it, anyway. 

At six o’clock, Kevin and Kaia arrived to help out. Long experience had taught Dean that neither of them were particularly chatty at this hour, so he just nodded and waved them to their stations. The rest of the staff slowly trickled in over the next hour, filling the bakery with their chatter as they got ready for another busy day. 

“Hey, Krissy, can you open the doors?” Dean called out, glancing at the clock above the counter. “My hands are covered in brownie batter.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Krissy smirked at him as she adjusted her red apron and wiped the flour from her hands. 

“Don’t call me that,” Dean replied automatically. “My mom’s still the boss.”

“For now.” Krissy shrugged and strolled off towards the front of the bakery. Dean watched her go, shaking his head. If he was the boss, like she was suggesting, then surely he deserved a little bit more respect from his smart-mouthed employees. 

He busied himself pouring the brownie batter into the prepared pan, then scattered a handful of peanut butter chips over the top before sliding it into the oven. The last thing to do was to tidy up his workspace. Sure, he could have asked one of the others to do it, but that wasn’t the way Dean liked to run things. They were good kids, even when they were giving him attitude, and he believed in cleaning up your own mess. 

By the time he wandered out to the front, it was shortly after seven. The man from earlier that morning was there, standing in front of the display case with a look of intense concentration on his face. Krissy was hovering politely behind the counter, but she turned at Dean’s footsteps and rolled her eyes. “He was waiting outside when I opened the doors,” she whispered. “You’d think someone so eager would already know what they wanted.”

Dean was inclined to agree with her, but his curiosity was piqued. “I’ll take it from here,” he said, patting her on the shoulder.

Clearing his throat, he gave the man a polite smile. “Gotta say, the fact that you waited around for two hours is pretty flattering. I’ll tell you what-- whatever you decide, it’s on the house.”

The man looked up, startlingly blue eyes wide in an elegant, handsome face. “That’s very kind.”

Dean shrugged. “You tell me what’s got you hanging around outside bakeries at five in the morning, and we’ll call it even.”

The man looked down. “I have a….troublesome sleep schedule.”

Well, Dean definitely knew a thing or two about that. Alternating mornings at the bakery and nights at his aunt Ellen’s bar was his choice, but that didn’t mean there weren’t times he longed for a regular nine-to-five job and eights hours of sleep a night. “You need coffee, then,” he declared.

“No.” The man looked back up with a grimace. “It doesn’t agree with me.”

“Tea?”

“No.”

An alarm bell was ringing in the back of Dean’s mind as he studied the man in front of him. He had a troublesome sleep schedule. Coffee and tea didn’t agree with him. He was here waiting at five in the morning. His clothes were surprisingly formal for a visit to a family-owned bakery, but his tie was backwards and his hair was attractively dishevelled. Most tellingly, his mannerisms were polite, almost old-fashioned.

Finally, it clicked.

“You’re surprisingly tanned for a vampire,” Dean said, resting his arms on the counter and giving him a closer inspection.

The man-- vampire-- drew back, a noise that might have been a hiss escaping him. He looked exactly like an offended cat, and Dean bit back a laugh as he held his hands up in a calming gesture. “Woah, buddy. It’s cool. We get all types in here.”

His entire body radiating tension, the vampire scowled at him. “I would still prefer you not announce it quite so publicly.”

Dean raised one eyebrow and took a slow look around the room. Krissy and Kevin were in the back, Kaia was fussing with the ancient coffeemaker and wouldn’t be able to hear anything over its groaning, and the only other customers were Mrs. and Mrs. Stanton, who had been together for forty years and coming to the bakery to share a cinnamon roll for almost as long. “I think your secret is safe.”

A tinge of pink appeared in the vampire’s cheeks. Someone else might have been confused at the quirk of physiology that allowed vampires to blush, but Dean had enough experience in that department to let it slide. “Thank you for your offer,” the vampire said stiffly. “But I think I should leave.”

“Your call.” Dean shrugged loosely and waved a hand at the display case in front of him. “But now that I know, I can make a personalized recommendation for you. And I have it on expert authority that you’ll flip your coffin over our dark chocolate raspberry muffins.”

The vampire had already half turned away, but he hesitated, looking back over his shoulder. There was something in his eyes that was more than just hunger as he said, “Chocolate raspberry?”

“Dark chocolate.” Dean was already sliding one out of the case and carefully placing it in a paper bag. “Here you go.”

Clutching the bag in his large hands, the vampire shook his head. “I failed to explain to you why I was here so early.”

“You can tell me next time. I’m betting you’ll be back after you taste that.” Dean grinned at him. “In the meantime, I’ll settle for your name.”

Dark lashes swept down over those blue eyes, then lifted again. “It’s Castiel.”

“Castiel,” Dean repeated. A bit strange, but he liked it. “I’m Dean.” He extended his hand over the counter and prayed he wouldn’t be left hanging like an overly eager teenager.

Castiel’s hand was cool, but his grip was firm. “Thank you, Dean.”

“You’re welcome.” Dean reluctantly withdrew his hand. “It’s getting late. You should probably be heading home.”

“Yes, of course.” Castiel gave him a slow, considering look. “Forgive me, but you seem awfully comfortable with-- all of this.”

“Not my first rodeo,” Dean replied easily. “But we’ll save that story for another day.”

After another moment, Castiel smiled. The expression completely changed his face, shifting it from something aristocratic and otherworldly to something purely breathtaking. “I look forward to it.”

With a last dip of his head, he turned away and left the bakery, not stopping to look back. Dean gazed after him, mind racing, until he heard a giggle from behind him and turned to see Kevin, Krissy, and Kaia all watching him with identical grins on their faces.

“What?” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t you three have anything better to do than stand around listening in on my conversations?”

“He’s cute,” Krissy offered. “Did you get his number?”

No, he didn’t, and Dean cursed himself for it. “Get back to work,” he said, scowling fiercely at them. “I may not be the boss yet, but I can still fire you.”

Still laughing, they returned to their tasks. Dean stood at the counter a minute longer, then shook his head and headed back to the kitchen, a pair of bright blue eyes and elegant hands fixed in his mind.

Friday nights were always busy at the Roadhouse, and that was the main reason Ellen had asked him to keep putting in hours for her. Dean didn’t mind-- he liked the change of pace from the bakery, and the tips definitely didn’t hurt. It was only eleven o’clock, and a quick glance at the jar on the bar in front of him revealed a promising number of crumpled bills. Judging by the looks the blonde he was currently serving was giving him, that number would soon be increasing further.

“Dean, we need more lemons. Can you run down and grab a crate?” Ellen shouted over the sound of a group of college kids absolutely butchering Bohemian Rhapsody by the jukebox. 

“You bet.” Dean winked at the blonde as he slid her beer across the counter, then wiped his hands on the dishrag behind the bar as he stepped away. “Anything else?”

“Maybe some more peanuts,” Ellen replied, casting a critical look at the college kids. “That lot are going to be here a while, I think.”

Dean threw her a crisp salute and thumped noisily down the stairs. He grabbed the items Ellen had requested, along with another bottle of vodka, balancing it all carefully as he made his way back upstairs. Depositing the peanuts and lemons in front of Ellen, he turned back to the bar and nearly dropped the bottle of vodka.

In the five minutes he’d been gone, Castiel had slid onto the stool recently occupied by the winking blonde.

“Hello, Dean,” he said, smooth and unruffled. 

“Uh, hey,” Dean stammered. He shook his head, placed the bottle of vodka on the shelf, and frowned. “Are you following me now?”

In response, he was treated to a spectacularly exaggerated eye-roll. “No. I merely had a craving for--”

Dean raised one eyebrow at him, and Castiel sighed. “Red wine,” he said pointedly. “The liquor stores don’t exactly keep hours that suit my needs.”

“Fair enough.” Dean nodded, scanning over their selection. “You okay with cabernet?”

At Castiel’s nod, he poured a generous glass and slid it across the bar, watching with interest as Castiel raised the glass to his nose and inhaled deeply before taking his first sip. “I didn’t know you guys drank wine.”

“And here I thought you were an expert on my kind.” Castiel lowered the glass, a hint of amusement in his eyes. 

“Benny was more of an occasional whiskey kind of a guy,” Dean replied with a shrug. “Never more than one, though. Said it went to his head like nothing else.”

Despite the dim lighting of the bar, Dean noticed the way Castiel’s eyes flared at Benny’s name. “Benny Lafitte?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Dean frowned at him. “You two know each other?” It didn’t surprise him, really. Compared to the bigger cities, Lawrence’s supernatural population was fairly small, and vampires were among the less numerous creatures. 

“Not personally.” Castiel shook his head. “But I’ve heard of him. He’s a friend of yours?”

“Something like that.” They were friends now. They used to be more than that, but Dean didn’t really think this was the time and place to get into that. “Anyway, most of what I know about vampires is thanks to him.”

“I see.” Castiel took another sip of his wine, eyes intent on Dean above the edge of the glass. “And he’s the reason you’re so unusually blasé about supernatural beings in your bakery? And bar?”

“One of them. My brother’s girlfriend is a demon. I don’t like her much, but that has less to do with her being a demon than it does with her being _her_. My old buddy Garth is a werewolf, Kaia at the bakery is a dreamwalker, my best friend Charlie is an enchantress-- the list goes on.”

“And you?” Castiel’s tone was neutral, but Dean could see the spark of curiosity in his eyes.

“Me?” Dean laughed. “Nah. I’m just a regular old human.”

“Hardly regular,” Castiel murmured. Warmth spread through Dean’s entire body at both the words and the speculative look Castiel gave him as he spoke them. “It seems I made the right choices in selecting which human establishments to visit these past few days.”

“Guess you’ve got good instincts.” Dean wanted to say more, but the college kids had wandered back to the other end of the bar and Jo was busy carrying platters of wings out to one of the booths. He rapped his knuckles on the top of the bar and flashed Castiel a quick smile. “Be back soon.”

Castiel saluted him with his wineglass, making no move to engage in conversation with anyone else. Dean was quickly swept up in orders of beer and margaritas and shots, but every time he looked back, Castiel was still sitting there, waiting.

He had to run a few of the drinks out to the tables the group had commandeered, and when he got back, he smothered a laugh at the sight that greeted him. The blonde from earlier had returned, and was now leaning into Castiel’s space, giving him the exact same look she had been giving Dean. He couldn’t blame her-- Castiel was definitely an attractive guy. 

He was also completely uninterested, judging by his body language. He kept himself upright, shoulders drawn back and squared towards the bar rather than facing her. Dean sighed and rounded the corner of the bar, clearing his throat loudly as he came up in front of them.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked, deliberately cutting off whatever line the blonde was about to deliver.

She shot him a dirty look from under her lashes. “Another beer.” Her face transformed completely as she smiled at Castiel. “And whatever my friend here is drinking.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said calmly, “but I’m not interested.” He paused, then added, “In the drink, or in you.”

Dean almost choked at the way the blonde’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open in shock. “Keep the beer,” she said to Dean, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “This place sucks.”

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the surface of the bar and shook his head at Castiel as he watched her storm out. “I should be pissed at you for driving away a customer, but man, that was awesome.”

Castiel shrugged and drained the last of his red wine. “When you’ve been around as long as I have, you realize there’s little sense raising people’s expectations. It’s best to be direct.”

“Maybe,” Dean acknowledged. “But a little tact might have been nice.” He frowned, Castiel’s words finally sinking in. “Wait. How old are you?”

“That isn’t a very polite question,” Castiel replied, raising one eyebrow. 

Dean waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Come on.”

With a sigh, Castiel said, “Four hundred and thirty-seven. I was thirty-seven when I was turned.”

“Impressive.” Dean let out a low whistle. “Hey, does that mean this is like, an anniversary for you? Is that why you’re out tonight? Celebrating?”

“Being turned into a vampire is not an occasion to be celebrated.” Castiel’s voice turned cold, and Dean winced. And there he was, trying to give a lesson on being tactful.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Really. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s forgotten.” Castiel favoured him with a wry smile. “Humans are curious by nature. I understand.”

“Can I make it up to you?” Dean swept an arm at the bottles of alcohol behind him. “Nothing implied other than an apology.”

His smile widening, Castiel said, “No, thank you. I shouldn’t have more than one glass. The effects of alcohol on a body that sustains itself on blood are heady, to put it mildly.”

“So why do you drink it?” Dean propped his hand on his chin, fascinated. Benny had never been able to properly explain it.

“Two reasons,” Castiel said softly. “For one, it offers the same sort of escape or alteration it does to humans, only much more quickly.” 

He trailed off, eyes distant. “And the other?” Dean prompted.

“It reminds me of being human.” He spoke the words so quietly Dean barely heard him over the noise of the bar. 

Throat tight with an emotion he couldn’t identify, Dean nodded. “Well. If you ever feel the need again--”

“I know where to come to satisfy my craving,” Castiel finished. “Thank you, Dean. Not just for the wine--” he paused, a smile playing around the corners of his lips-- “or the muffin. But for the company.”

Licking his lips, Dean reached under the bar and grabbed a pen and pad of paper before he could change his mind. “Here,” he said, scribbling his phone number on the paper. “If you want company--”

Castiel reached out and took the paper. Their hands brushed together for a brief second, and Dean shivered at the feeling of his cold flesh. “I don’t have a cell phone,” Castiel admitted.

“Of course you don’t.” Dean laughed, planting his hands on his hips. “You probably have one of those ancient rotary phones, don’t you?”

Castiel’s silence was answer enough. Dean laughed again at the frown on his face, like he was disappointed that Dean had read him so easily. Castiel opened his mouth, but before the words emerged, there was a shout from the other end of the bar. The college kids were getting rowdy, and Jo would have her hands full dealing with them.

“I should--” He jerked his thumb in their direction.

“Of course.” Castiel gave him one of those gracious nods. “Go.”

The next time Dean looked back, he was gone. But when he made his way back over to collect Castiel’s empty wineglass, he found a piece of paper tucked neatly under the foot of the glass, wrapped around a twenty-dollar bill. Smiling foolishly to himself, he picked up the note.

_Dean,_

_Thank you for a diverting evening. This makes two occasions on which you have made a difficult situation enjoyable for me, and I am having trouble properly expressing my gratitude. Instead, would you accept an invitation to dinner? At your convenience, of course._

_Yours, Castiel._

No last name. Of course not. But a phone number was written beneath it. 

“What are you grinning at?” Jo asked as she passed behind him, trying and failing to look over his shoulder. 

“Nothing,” Dean said, tucking the note into his pocket. “Or something. Not sure yet.”

“Hmn.” Jo gave him a suspicious look, then slapped a towel against his chest. “Why don’t you go wipe down some booths while you figure it out?”

It was a testament to his good mood that he didn’t even argue with her. He hadn’t been on a date in years, and after Castiel’s remarks about making his intentions clear, he was fairly confident it was a date. Sure, the last time he tried dating a vampire hadn’t turned out the way he had hoped, but he and Benny were still friends, at least. And he couldn’t deny that Castiel was one of the most interesting, attractive people he had met in a long time. 

Dean wasn’t about to get his hopes up. It was just dinner. Still, he found himself whistling as he and Jo began the slow process of cleaning up after their boisterous customers. He would call Castiel on his old-fashioned, completely cliché phone, and they would go from there. 

He would also make sure dark chocolate raspberry muffins were available every morning he opened the bakery. Just in case.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel stared at his reflection in the ornate, full-length mirror in his bedroom, casting a critical eye over his outfit. Fortunately, the popular notion that vampires didn’t have reflections was greatly exaggerated. His figure was slightly blurred around the edges, like the glass was clouded, but he could see himself perfectly well. The slim-cut black trousers clung invitingly to his thighs and his backside, while the deep burgundy velvet smoking jacket hinted at dark pleasures and luxurious indulgence. It was likely all a bit much, but he was fairly certain it would have the intended effect on his guest.

He hummed to himself as he took the steps up to the main level two at a time. The very last rays of sun peeked through the west-facing windows of the old church he had converted into his home, the stained glass providing enough cover to shield him from their harmful glare. Also greatly exaggerated: the effects of sunlight on vampires. Strong sun could burn him severely, and even weaker light was unpleasant, but contrary to long-held beliefs, he would not burst dramatically into flames if he dared venture outside at this time of day. It would only prove fatal if he remained under the bright sunlight for an extended period of time. He did, however, require complete darkness to sleep, which was why his bedroom was located in the basement of the church. It amused him to think of the space once used for prayer group meetings now serving as his bedchamber.

After over four hundred years of existence, Castiel had learned to appreciate such small moments of humour. 

Still humming-- something upbeat and catchy he had heard earlier in the week-- he opened his refrigerator and began pulling out ingredients for roast chicken and potatoes. He wouldn’t eat any of it himself, of course, but he knew it would impress his guest.

The mere thought of Dean sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. It was absolutely not the right time to be entertaining guests, not with the tension building in the city. The whispers were increasing with every night, vague unease creeping through the paranormal community. Something was changing, and change rarely meant any good for them. It was to escape that sense of unease that Castiel had first wandered into Dean’s bakery a few days ago, struck by a sudden craving for something sweet and rich, something so _human_ as baked goods. And then at the bar, the same sort of desperate attempt to avoid the reality of his situation, the fact that he could taste unrest in the air but couldn’t trace its source.

He should have been out on the streets, searching for leads. Not having guests for dinner, especially humans, but Castiel couldn’t find it in himself to care. He had time. An eternity of it. This other matter could wait. Dean, though-- Dean was human and beautiful and as fleeting as a summer storm. Castiel had little doubt that their affair would be just as intense and just as brief, as were all his entanglements with humans. He had never regretted a single one of them. 

He had been surprised when Dean called the day after their encounter at the bar, and pleased to note he could still feel that kind of surprise. Their conversation had been brief, but it had resulted in this evening’s plans, which was enough for Castiel. He preferred face-to-face interaction, especially when his companions were as striking as Dean. It had been a long time since Castiel had been so instantly attracted to anyone, human or otherwise. Not only was Dean extraordinarily handsome, he was also clever, charming, and obviously tolerant of species other than his own. Times had changed, Castiel knew, but he still remembered the years he spent hiding his true nature, the fear and the isolation he felt. To be able to walk among humans now, to visit their places of gathering and partake in their social rituals, was a gift he would never take for granted.

Dean would come for dinner, and likely other activities. Castiel would fulfill his wildest fantasies, all the things humans expected of encounters with vampires. They were never looking for genuine connection, just the thrill of something dangerous. Dean would be satisfied, Castiel would be satisfied, and then he could focus his attention on other things. 

Once the chicken was prepared, he slid the tray into the oven and opened the refrigerator to retrieve his own meal. The glass bottle bore a label with the stamp of the Lawrence Blood Bank, the date it was bottled, and the blood type on it. Castiel selected an A-positive, his personal favourite, and sipped it slowly as he waited for Dean to arrive. Based on his ease during their earlier conversations, he suspected Dean would be amenable to him drinking in his presence, but it was far more polite to do so before his arrival. 

He finished the bottle of blood just as the timer on the oven went off and a light knock sounded on the wooden door of the church. Castiel discreetly wiped his mouth with an embroidered handkerchief and passed a hand through his hair before going to welcome his guest.

In the warm glow spilling from the streetlight above him, Dean’s smile was blinding. “Hey, Castiel,” he said. 

Castiel returned his smile, drinking in the way Dean’s leather jacket hung from his broad shoulders. “Hello, Dean,” he replied. “Please, come in.”

Dean let out a low whistle as he followed Castiel into the church. “I was a bit confused when I got here. Checked the address three times. But suddenly, this all makes sense.”

“How so?” Castiel looked around his home, trying to see it through a newcomer’s eyes. The pews had all been removed, creating one large open space filled with low couches, tables, and soft rugs on the wooden floors. Between the stained glass windows, bookshelves had been built into the walls, bursting with titles from the past few hundred years. The altar now served as his table, which he had already set for dinner, an enormous candelabra at its centre. Candles also flickered on every table, and red roses cast their heady aroma from vases all around the room. 

“It’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it?” Dean said, raising one eyebrow. “Not in a bad way.”

Castiel shrugged. “The misconceptions about vampires are numerous, but I must admit, the tendency towards the dramatic is not one of them.”

“I can see that.” Dean tossed a grin over his shoulder as he strode further into the room, examining the closest bookshelf with interest. 

Castiel watched him with equal interest. Most of his human guests were impressed with his home decor, but in a very different way. They always seemed pleased, triumphant, like they had been hoping to find a lair exactly like this, and Castiel was content enough to cater to their perceived notions of vampirehood. But Dean-- he seemed amused rather than impressed. Not in a scornful way, but in a way that invited Castiel to be in on the joke. 

Shaking his head, Castiel brushed aside such disruptive thoughts. “May I take your jacket?” he asked, stepping closer. A faint aroma of sugar and cocoa hovered around Dean, intoxicating. 

“Thanks.” Dean shrugged off the jacket in one smooth movement, revealing a deep burgundy shirt beneath it. Castiel wondered whether he had chosen the colour intentionally, some sort of unspoken joke, or simply because he knew how flattering it was on him. Either way, Castiel appreciated it, though he had to laugh at how they had unknowingly coordinated their outfits. 

“You were working at the bakery this morning?” he inquired as he hung the jacket in the small closet beside the vestibule. 

“Yeah.” Dean turned back to face him, his smile still in place. “Sundays, Mondays, and Thursdays at the bakery, Tuesdays and Fridays at the bar. Off Wednesdays and Saturdays.”

“That sounds stressful.” Castiel waved Dean into a seat and took the armchair opposite him, angling himself so the candlelight would illuminate his features. “Is it difficult to maintain that schedule?”

“Sometimes,” Dean admitted. “But I can’t give either one up. The bakery has been in my mom’s family for years, and the Roadhouse is everything to my aunt Ellen. Family’s important, you know?”

“Yes.” Castiel closed his eyes briefly and swallowed the bitterness that rose up in his throat. “It is.”

To his credit, Dean didn’t question him on his terse reply. “Mom’s been dropping hints about retiring soon and leaving the business to me, though. That might change things.”

“Do you want to inherit the bakery?” Castiel asked. He found such matters fascinating. Human lives were so brief. They only had a few short years, and they always had such strong feelings about how they planned to spend them.

“I do.” Dean smiled again, softer this time. “But maybe not yet. Mom’s only sixty, and she’s got more energy than most people my age. I don’t think it’s quite time for her to hang it up yet.”

Castiel laughed softly. “Sixty,” he said under his breath. “So young, still.”

“That’s what I keep telling her!” Dean exclaimed. “If you come in one day when she’s there, please tell her that.”

“Very well,” Castiel agreed, though he doubted the opportunity would ever arise. If he were to visit Campbell Cakes and Co. again, it would only be on days when Dean was working. “But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Why discuss the future, and a potential one at that, when the present is so enjoyable?”

He lowered his voice, elongating the syllables of that last word, and was gratified to see Dean’s throat move visibly as he swallowed. Rising to his feet, Castiel indicated the table at the other end of the room. “Please, have a seat. Dinner will be ready shortly. May I offer you something to drink?”

“Normally I would say whatever you’re having, but I think that might be a bad idea in this case.” The grin on Dean’s face took any awkwardness out of the statement, and Castiel laughed, acknowledging the humour of the situation with a small nod.

“Beer? Wine?” he offered.

“Beer would be great, thanks.” Dean stood and stretched, the movement too eye-catching to be anything but deliberate. Castiel took the opportunity he was offered, letting his gaze wander over Dean’s form. He had years of experience decoding human body language, and it seemed he wasn’t the only one who preferred to be direct about his intentions.

Smiling in anticipation, Castiel guided Dean to a seat and placed a bottle of beer in front of him. He poured himself a small glass of red wine, not enough to affect him strongly but just enough to give the illusion of sharing the meal with Dean. Guessing that Dean would have a healthy appetite, he loaded a plate with chicken, vegetables, and potatoes, then presented it to Dean with a flourish.

“That looks amazing.” Dean closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “Nothing like classic comfort food.”

“Thank you.” Castiel took his own seat at the opposite end of the table and raised his glass in a toast. “To new friends.”

“To new friends,” Dean echoed, a slight stress on the last word. His eyes met Castiel’s across the distance between them, the candlelight reflected in their depths. “To late nights, and to early mornings.”

He was good. He was so very good. Castiel held back a laugh, but barely. It had been a long time since he had found anyone who could match him in the game of seduction, and a long time since he had truly put his skills to use. There was a particular thrill in sparring with someone this way, rather than having them reduced to swooning at his displays. It boded extremely well for what would happen between them later. 

Dinner was an exercise in exquisite suspense. They talked politely about safe topics such as Dean’s family-- his father had passed away, his younger brother worked in the Paranormal Investigations department of the Lawrence police force-- and their favourite recipes. Dean was effusive in his praise for Castiel’s cooking, and Castiel found himself recounting stories of his adventures in learning to cook as technology changed over the years. “I refuse to own a microwave, though,” he said, grimacing. “I suppose the convenience factor makes them attractive, but seeing as I have no limits on my time, the efficiency holds little value for me.”

“Yeah, I feel that.” Dean nodded, draining the last of his beer in one long swallow. “Sometimes the good things in life take time.”

Folding his hands on the table in front of him, Castiel arched one eyebrow at him. “But not always,” he said softly.

“No.” Dean’s voice dropped as well, full of promise. “Not always.”

They stared at each other, the tension rising until Castiel thought he might choke on it. He rose to his feet, noting the way Dean’s breath hitched at his movement. He took three deliberate steps, bringing him within touching distance, and bent slightly. Dean’s hands lifted from the arms of his chair, but before they could make contact, Castiel picked up his empty plate and turned sharply on his heel towards the kitchen. 

Dean’s muffled curse rang in his ears as he strode away, but there was an edge of laughter in his voice as he called out, “You really do have the trademark on dramatics, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied easily as he came back into the main room. “Is that a problem?”

“Hell no,” Dean declared. He grinned up at Castiel, leaning back in his chair and letting his legs fall blatantly open. 

“Good,” Castiel said, then dropped into his lap.

Dean let out a small noise of surprise but recovered quickly, his hands coming up to rest at Castiel’s hips and keep him balanced. “Time for dessert?”

“Something like that.” Castiel pressed himself closer, feeling Dean’s heart beating thunderously in his chest. “May I kiss you, Dean?”

Nodding slowly, Dean tilted his face up in clear invitation, eyes fluttering closed. Leaning forward, Castiel dropped a soft kiss on his forehead, relishing the soft sigh that escaped Dean’s lips. He kissed each closed eyelid, both cheeks, and then finally, their lips met.

He was so warm. So alive. Castiel groaned as he deepened the kiss, Dean responding with the urgency so typical of humans but also something else, something unique to him, a passion Castiel had rarely experienced. It sang in his veins like the sweetest of substances, headier than wine and more satisfying than the richest blood. “Dean,” he whispered, simply for the pleasure of saying it. “You’re so--”

Dean kissed him again before he could continue. In an impressive display of strength, he stood, dragging Castiel upright with him, and pressed him back against the altar. The solid wood dug painfully into Castiel’s back, but he didn’t care, couldn’t care, not when Dean was doing that fascinating thing with his tongue.

Castiel had had many lovers over the course of his existence. He never tired of this, never. Every single one of them brought something different to the experience, offered some new pleasure even if only in the way they responded to pleasure in turn. With this kiss, Dean superseded them all.

He could feel Dean’s erection pressing against his side, insistent. Fast and rough right here would suit Castiel just fine, at least for the first time. He let his hands trail down Dean’s chest, knowing he would feel their coolness even through his shirt, and was just toying with the waistband of his jeans when the phone rang.

Castiel jerked sharply to the side, swearing. Dean laughed and leaned back in, but Castiel turned away, not without reluctance. “I have to answer it,” he said, his voice rougher than he might have expected after just a few kisses. “Very few people have this number, and even fewer contact me on anything other than dire matters.”

Dean pouted, an expression that was far more endearing than it had any right to be, and sighed. “Hurry back.”

Laughing, Castiel pressed a swift kiss to those tempting lips and pulled away. The phone was on a small table in the centre of the open room, its shrill ring making him wince. “Yes,” he said curtly as he picked up the receiver. “This is Castiel.”

“Cas.” A cold dread rose in his throat. Nobody called him that, except for--

“Balthazar?” he said, tightening his grip on the receiver. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Attacked.” A groan, then a cough. “The park by City Hall. Cas--”

The line went dead. Castiel put down the receiver with a click that echoed in the silence of the room, mind racing. He had to go. With all the whispers he had been hearing over the past few weeks, and now this--

It was foolish of him to have thought he could hide from this. That he could afford to spend a night this way, attempting to lose himself in a warm, willing, human body. Something was happening, something that could change the world as much as it had been changed forty years ago with the revelation that the supernatural was real. He had been smugly convinced it would affect him only by proxy, but an attack on his oldest friend was the one thing that could pull him into whatever this was.

And if he was going to involve himself in this, there would be no time for distractions. Even ones as delicious as Dean. 

He took a deep breath and turned to Dean. “Forgive me,” he said. “I have to go. A friend is in need of my assistance.”

Dean immediately descended the steps to join him. “Can I help?”

If Castiel’s heart could be warmed, it would have been at the earnestness in Dean’s eyes. “No,” he said firmly. “No, I’m afraid not. I hate to cut our evening short--” he smiled ruefully, eyes dropping to the noticeable bulge in Dean’s pants-- “but I really must be going. I’m sure you can see yourself out.”

He didn’t bother stopping to gauge the expression on Dean’s face. It might have delayed him, and he needed to reach Balthazar quickly. “Wait!” Dean called out as Castiel slipped on his shoes, hand already on the door. “Can I see you again?”

Hesitating, Castiel bit his lip. As much as it would distress him to never explore Dean’s potential fully, it would distress him more to lose Balthazar. “No,” he said. He didn’t look back over his shoulder. “I don’t think that would be wise.”

He closed the heavy wooden door behind him, cutting off Dean’s reply. The disappointment would fade, for both of them. Dean would find someone else to fulfill his vampire fantasy with easily enough, and he would forget about Castiel. 

Humans always did.

It took him fifteen minutes to reach City Hall, cursing at every red light. From there, he exited the car and followed the sharp scent of blood on foot, keeping a wary eye on his surroundings. If whoever-- or whatever-- attacked Balthazar was still lurking nearby, he had no intention of becoming their next victim.

His heightened senses allowed him to catch the faint sound of laboured breathing coming from a shadowed alley between City Hall and the next building. Throwing caution to the wind, he quickened his pace and soon found Balthazar, slumped on the ground with his eyes closed.

Castiel froze, then inched forward. “Balthazar?” he said softly. “Balthazar, please--”

“Cas?” Balthazar’s eyes fluttered open, and he moved as though to raise one hand, but it fell back down to his lap. “Can’t move--”

Forcing down his distress, Castiel knelt beside him and lifted his arm. The sleeve of his shirt was pushed back to the elbow, and the delicate skin bore the unmistakable mark of a syringe. 

Castiel hissed in sympathy. “Dead blood?”

“Bastards,” Balthazar murmured faintly. “Didn’t get a good look at them. Must be getting slow in my old age.”

Hauling his friend to his feet, Castiel grimaced. “If you’re old, then what does make me?”

Balthazar’s head lolled to the side, but there was a trace of his usual mischief in his eyes as he answered, “Ancient.”

“Not too ancient to carry your sad self back to my home,” Castiel snapped as he hoisted Baltazar into his arms. It frightened him, to see his typically vital friend in this state, and fear made him irritable. They were meant to be the creatures that inspired it in others, not those who fell victim to it themselves.

Though he hated extending the journey, Castiel avoided the main roads on the drive home, not wanting any witnesses. Until they could determine who had attacked Balthazar, and why, there was no sense publicizing tonight’s events. In the glow of the streetlights, Castiel could see how pale Balthazar had become, the tight lines around his eyes and mouth. He muttered useless encouragement under his breath as he drove, sighing with relief as his home came into sight. 

He had to set Balthazar down to wrestle open the door to the church, keeping one arm around his shoulders so he wouldn’t collapse. Once inside, two steps brought them to the nearest chaise. Balthazar sank onto it, one hand trailing towards the floor. If Castiel didn’t act fast, he would lose him. Fortunately, he still had a decent stock of bottled blood in the refrigerator. 

“Drink,” he ordered, holding the bottle to Balthazar’s lips. His eyes opened again as the scent hit him, but Castiel still had to hold the bottle steady on his behalf.

Two bottles later, some colour had returned to Balthazar’s face. He pushed himself upright, ignoring Castiel’s protests, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. When he turned to look at Castiel, his eyes were clear, but more serious than Castiel had ever seen them.

“Thank you, Castiel,” he said.

A lump rose in Castiel’s throat. He and Balthazar had been friends for over two hundred years, and he could count on one hand the numbers of times he had called him by his full name. “Of course,” he said thickly. “Can I get you anything else?”

“I just need to rest.” Balthazar’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment before opening again. “And we need to talk.”

“Is this really the time--” Castiel started, but was quelled by a glare.

“Yes,” Balthazar insisted. “Strange things have been happening lately, Cas, and this is just one of them. Surely you’ve noticed.”

Sighing, Castiel perched on the edge of the chaise, moving Balthazar’s legs out of the way. “You’re referring to the situation at the blood banks.”

“Too many new faces,” Balthazar said, shaking his head. “Where are they all coming from?”

“They could be moving from larger cities,” Castiel offered. It was a weak explanation, and they both knew it. “Tired of the overcrowding, looking for somewhere they can establish themselves.”

“I truly wish that were the case.” Balthazar placed a hand over the puncture mark on his elbow, grimacing. “But now this-- this wasn’t random, Cas, I know that much. I remember how it used to be, humans clumsily trying to take us down. This was calculated, precise-- they knew where I would be going, they knew where to intercept me, and they knew about dead blood.” He paused, mouth tightening. “I never even heard them coming. The only way that’s possible--”

A sinking feeling in his chest, Castiel finished, “Is if they were also vampires.”

They stared at each other, and Castiel knew the look of horror on Balthazar’s face would be reflected on his own. “It’s been years since anyone started an internal war,” Castiel said. He still remembered the last one, vampires desperately jockeying for power during the uncertain years of the Great Depression. “Why now?”

“And why me?” Balthazar shrugged, his movements easier now. There was that, at least. “I don’t know, Cas. I don’t have any answers.” He grimaced, casting a sympathetic look at Castiel. “But you know who might.”

Castiel froze in place. “No--”

“I’m sorry.” Balthazar did look genuinely regretful. “I wouldn’t ask this of you under any less dire circumstances. But you’re one of few people who could gain an audience with her, and very little ever escapes her attention.”

Letting out a slow breath, Castiel forced himself to consider it rationally. Balthazar was right-- if anyone would have any insight to offer, it would be Naomi. But he hadn’t seen his maker in over a hundred years, and he preferred to keep it that way. Their relationship was an uneasy one, to put it mildly. 

“Cas?”

Balthazar was watching him, expectant. Castiel sighed, pushed a hand through his hair, and said, “Very well.” Seeing the way Balthazar brightened at his words, he held up a hand to prevent him getting carried away. “But not tonight. You need to rest, and I will not be leaving you alone here.”

Grumbling, Balthazar got to his feet. He didn’t sway or stumble, for which Castiel was thankful. “Fine,” he said. Planting his hands on his hips, he looked around the room, then turned back to Castiel. “Your table is set. Was I interrupting something?”

Biting back a retort, Castiel shrugged. “Dinner. Nothing nearly as important as your life.”

“Dinner.” Balthazar grinned slyly, and as pleased as Castiel was at the return of his usual good mood, he didn’t particularly enjoy being the subject of his teasing. “With a human?”

“Yes.” Castiel hadn’t spared a thought for Dean since finding Balthazar crumpled in that alley. He did so now, wondering if he had gone back out seeking companionship elsewhere, or if he had just gone home alone. “It would have been nice--”

“Nice?” Balthazar snorted. “They don’t come to us for ‘nice,’ Cas.”

“Perhaps not.” Castiel shrugged again. “He was charming. I rather liked him. But I doubt I’ll see him again.”

“Hmn.” Balthazar didn’t look entirely convinced. “Well, I confess I am glad to know your bed is unoccupied, since I plan on commandeering it for the time being.” He grinned. “You did say I needed rest.”

Castiel waved a dismissive hand at him. “Go. Sleep well.”

As he passed on his way to the stairs, Balthazar leaned down to press a fond kiss to the top of Castiel’s head. “You always were the best of us, Cas.”

He gave one last wave as he descended to the lower level, leaving Castiel silent and thoughtful in his wake. Tonight’s attack had rattled him far more than he had allowed Balthazar to see. Without him to focus on, all of Castiel’s jumbled thoughts crowded his mind, leading him down paths he would rather not take. If Balthazar-- a well-liked, powerful vampire who never showed allegiance to any particular group-- could be attacked so boldly, what did it mean for the rest of them? 

He crossed the room to the table, clearing away the last remnants of the dinner he and Dean had shared. How quickly the course of a night could change. It felt like days ago that he had kissed Dean here, tasted the salt of his skin and felt the warmth of his lips against his own. 

There was far more important matters to concern himself with. Sitting alone in his large, silent home, the flickering candles his only company, Castiel allowed his thoughts to run free, exploring all avenues and possibilities. To put it simply, he was brooding. Dean would laugh at him for it, he knew, and he found himself smiling at the thought. He would have liked to pursue that connection to its end, but he knew he had done the right thing in sending Dean away. 

These were dangerous times they were living in, and Castiel was a dangerous creature.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean wasn’t angry. 

Surprised, yes. Confused, definitely. Sexually frustrated, unbelievably. But not angry.

He understood why Castiel had told him to leave. He was worried about his friend, and Dean respected that. It actually made him even more interested in Castiel, knowing he was loyal and dedicated and willing to drop everything, including the chance at some action, to help someone. 

What he didn’t understand was why Castiel had looked so distressed as he stood at the phone, as he brushed past Dean on his way out the door. It wasn’t the face of someone going to pick a friend up at the bar and drive them home, or any other minor good deed. Something more serious was going on, and Dean was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Which was why he strode into the police station the next afternoon, winking at Nancy behind the desk and smiling to himself at her blush. “Is Sam in?” he asked.

“In his office,” Nancy replied. 

“You’re the best.” Dean opened the white bakery box he was carrying and withdrew a raspberry cheesecake brownie, presenting it to her with a flourish. “I brought your favourite.”

She shook her head at him but accepted the brownie. “You know us too well.”

“Hey, at least I’m in and out of here so often because it’s where my brother works, not because I’m some sort of troublemaker,” he called out as he made his way further back into the station. 

“Troublemaker? You?” Victor stuck his head out of his office with a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Never.”

Dean slowed slightly and handed over a miniature apple strudel. “You know you love me.”

“Mmn-hmn.” Victor’s reply was garbled by the pastry he had already unceremoniously shoved into his mouth.

Laughing to himself, Dean knocked sharply on the door to Sam’s office and pushed it open without waiting to be invited in, as was his brotherly right. “Hey,” he said, dropping into the chair in front of Sam’s desk. “You got a minute?”

Sam looked up from the pile of papers in front of him and pushed his glasses further up on his nose. “Not really, but I also know that was a rhetorical question, so I do now.”

“Right answer.” Dean passed the white box across the desk. “I even brought payment.”

“Alright, shoot.” Sam leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s got you showing up at my office without warning and with bribes in hand?”

Dean took a deep breath, then let it out in a noisy exhale. “Have you heard about anything weird going on with the vampires lately?”

One of Sam’s eyebrows shot up, but his face stayed otherwise impassive. “Weird in what way?”

“Any way.” Dean waved his hands in the air. “Anything out of the ordinary.”

Standing abruptly, Sam crossed the room and pulled the door shut again. “This is strictly confidential information,” he said, voice lowered.

“The best kind.” Dean leaned forward, intent. “What’s going on, Sammy?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Sam sat back down and shook his head slowly. “One, the number of vampires registered for the blood banks has increased dramatically over the past month or so.”

Dean frowned, fiddling with the pen he had picked up off the desk. “Okay. And?”

“It’s not just the numbers. They all fit a certain pattern: young, no families, little financial stability. Out of the new registrants, more than ninety percent of them are on the subsidized program.” 

“That is weird,” Dean said. “I mean, I know those programs are a hit in the bigger cities, but most of our vampire population can afford to pay for their meals.”

“Exactly.” Sam nodded, rummaging through the files on his desk and passing one over to Dean. “So we’ve got a whole new crop of young, hungry, solitary vampires. That’s enough to make anyone nervous.”

Dean knew his brother well enough to know when he was drawing a story out on purpose. “And what else?”

Sam grimaced. “This isn’t official department knowledge, but--”

“Let me guess: Ruby.” Dean barely restrained the urge to roll his eyes as Sam nodded. “Okay, what does she have to do with it?”

“She says Crowley’s been even pissier than usual lately. Keeps muttering to himself about bloodsuckers being bad for business.” 

Dean had never met the King of Hell, but he’d heard stories. Crowley was a shrewd negotiator who had managed to reach an agreement with the human governments when the demons and other supernatural creatures had revealed themselves. All demon deals had to be properly explained, no tricks, and the standard ten years could be adjusted according to the value of the demon’s assistance, as could the length of time spent in Hell. Dean had never really understood why people still made deals, knowing what they did, but apparently some people were reckless enough to keep the demons occupied. 

If they were getting restless because of something the vampires were doing-- Dean swallowed nervously at the thought. 

“Think about it, Dean.” Sam’s voice was strained, his thoughts clearly following the same path as Dean’s. “Demons hate possessing other supernatural creatures. Sloppy seconds, Ruby calls it. And these new vamps, they’re exactly the type of people demons would chase down for possession.”

“So Crowley’s pissed that someone is stealing all his meatsuits.” Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. “Okay. But who’s behind this? And what’s their endgame? A vampire army?” He tried to force a laugh, but the thought was too troubling for him to pass off with a joke. 

Sam shook his head, gesturing at the papers strewn across his desk. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Eyes narrowing behind the frames of his glasses, he asked, “What’s your interest in all this, anyway?”

Dean shrugged as casually as he could manage. “Met a guy the other day. A vampire. Seemed like there was something going on, and I got curious.”

“Met a guy, huh.” Sam’s voice was carefully neutral, but there was a trace of amusement in his eyes. “Dean, remember what happened the last time you tried to date a vampire.”

As if Dean could ever forget. He and Benny had been good together, but Benny walked away. Couldn’t handle the thought of Dean dying before him, and Dean had no interest in being turned. He was happy with Andrea now, and Dean was happy for him. Mostly.

“Yeah, well, you’re dating an immortal being too,” he pointed out. “So you don’t have any right to judge.”

Sam held up his hands in front of him. “I’m not judging,” he said. “Just worried.”

“So am I.” Dean pulled the files towards himself, skimming over the names and faces of the newly-registered vampires. They were awfully young, most of them under twenty-five. “But not about myself.”

The phone rang before Sam could reply. He held up a finger to tell Dean to wait, but Dean shook his head and got to his feet. He’d learned everything he could, and he was even more troubled than he’d been before he walked in here. He wasn’t quite sure what a bunch of newly-turned vampires had to do with a friend of Castiel’s being in trouble, but there had to be a connection. 

He looked down at the faces in the files again, jaw tightening. Most of the kids were around Kevin, Kaia, and Krissy’s ages. Kevin had his mom, but the girls didn’t have any family other than the one they’d formed at the bakery.

There was no way in hell Dean was going to let anything happen to them. And if keeping them safe also gave him an excuse to see Castiel again, well-- he’d always been good at multitasking.

Dean drove through the city at twilight, looking at the familiar streets and buildings with newly suspicious eyes. Humans and non-humans had coexisted peacefully for his entire life, and while there were occasional incidents that kept Sam and his colleagues employed, it was really no different than ordinary human crime.

Until now. Somewhere on these streets, behind these windows, something was brewing. Maybe it was just his imagination, but the people passing by on the sidewalks seemed to be walking faster, unease settling over the city as the sky darkened. 

Now Dean was angry. Lawrence was his home, and between his two jobs, he felt like he knew a good percentage of its population, human and otherwise. He wasn’t a cop like Sam, or like their father had been, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a duty to protect the city and the people he cared about. 

He just needed to find out how. 

Pulling the Impala to a stop outside the old church, he checked his hair in the mirror before climbing out of the car. Nobody ever said he couldn’t save his city and also look good doing it. Sticking his hands in his pockets and squaring his shoulders, he crossed the street and knocked firmly on the church’s wooden door.

He blinked in surprise as the door opened, revealing a tall, sandy-haired man who looked back at him with equal surprise. “Oh, dear,” the man said, a hint of an accent colouring his lazy drawl. “Are you lost?”

“No,” Dean replied. “I’m looking for Castiel.”

The man’s eyebrows rose, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Indeed,” he murmured. “Well, do come in, then.”

“Balthazar, don’t open it--” Castiel came hurrying across the room, drawing up short when he caught sight of Dean. “Oh. Dean. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I can see that.” Dean turned to the other man. “Balthazar, is it? You must be the friend who needed Castiel’s help the other night. You’re looking okay to me now.”

“Thanks to Cas’ excellent care, I am.” Balthazar smiled sharply. “I sense that I should apologize for ruining a promising evening for you, but, well, I do consider my life a higher priority than your sexual satisfaction.”

“Balthazar,” Castiel said again, a warning this time. He looked tired, Dean noted. Dressed in faded jeans and a loose black t-shirt, there was no evidence of the smooth, polished charm of their previous meetings. Sighing, he waved Dean into a seat. “Dean, you really shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not?” Dean sat, crossing his arms over his chest and looking between the two vampires. “Because of what happened to Balthazar the other night?”

Two sets of blue eyes narrowed, and Dean bit back a laugh. “What do you know about that?” Castiel asked.

“Not much.” Dean shrugged. “Just that it had you running out of here just as things were starting to get real interesting. Call me conceited, but it takes something pretty big to make someone hit pause on that.”

Castiel and Balthazar exchanged a long look. Dean couldn’t read the unspoken conversation, but it was clear they were deciding how much to tell him. “Yes, well,” Balthazar said eventually. “I’m fine now, as you can see. No reason for you to concern yourself.”

“Glad to hear it.” Dean leaned back in his chair, deliberately casual. “But just out of curiosity-- this wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with all the new, young vampires turning up recently, would it?”

“I think it’s time for you to leave.” Balthazar took a step forward, his loose posture turned taut and menacing. Dean wasn’t paying him much attention, though, his gaze fixed on Castiel. Castiel, who was looking at him like he was seeing him for the first time.

“You’re a baker. A bartender.” Castiel shook his head slowly. “What could you possibly know about that?”

“My brother’s in Paranormal Investigations. I told you that.” Dean smiled up at him, humourless. “Good to know you were listening.”

“I was. I simply--” Castiel broke off, then dropped into the chair beside Dean’s. Balthazar sighed and remained standing, still looking like he would prefer to drag Dean out of here himself. “Why do you care?”

“Lots of reasons.” Dean could see their faces in his mind, all those kids from the files. “If something is going on with the vampires, it’s not going to be limited to you. I’ve got people I want to protect.” He threw a quick glance at Balthazar, wishing he would suddenly disappear, then turned back to Castiel. “And maybe it’s dumb, but you’re one of them.”

Castiel went still, never looking more inhuman. His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes softened, and Dean let out a slow breath. “I know I’m just a weak, mortal human,” he said quietly. “But I want to help.”

Surprisingly, it was Balthazar who spoke first. “We could use all the help we can get,” he commented, dropping onto the couch across from them and stretching out like a lazy cat. “Your brother-- what did he tell you?”

“Not much. They don’t have a lot of information, just all the new vamps--” he caught himself as both Castiel and Balthazar winced-- “vampires, sorry.”

“Have they been able to make any connections between them?” Castiel asked. “Jobs, school, areas of the city?”

“Nothing so specific. Just age range, lack of family connections, and lack of money.”

“Which is why they’re all on the subsidized program,” Balthazar noted. “Older vampires have had time to accrue enough money to pay for their food like everyone else, but these children--” He shook his head, and for the first time, showed a glimpse of genuine emotion behind his sharpness. “Whoever is turning them is leaving them alone and defenseless. It’s reckless, selfish, and completely unforgivable. We have duties as makers, and they’re being neglected entirely.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Castiel tense. “What?” he asked. “Do you know something?”

Castiel hesitated a moment before replying. “No. Just-- the subject of makers. It has arisen recently, and I don’t particularly enjoy dwelling on it.”

“For all her faults, Naomi took care of you.” Balthazar’s voice was gentler than Dean had heard it until now. “She never left you to fend for yourself. And those were far darker times than those we live in now.”

“Yes.” Castiel still looked distant. “Which is how I know she isn’t behind this.”

Dean had never heard of anyone named Naomi before, but it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together. “Your maker-- where is she?”

“Seattle,” Castiel answered. “She enjoys the rain there.”

“So if she’s in Seattle, what could she possibly have to do with this?”

“Nothing.” Castiel shook his head. “But she’s one of the oldest of our kind, and she gathers information as dragons gather treasure. If anyone will be able to point us in the right direction, it will be her.”

Dean nodded. “Are you going to go see her?”

Castiel and Balthazar engaged in another wordless conversation. “No,” Castiel replied slowly. “Not unless I must. For now, a simple phone call will suffice.”

“I’ll speak to Dumah,” Balthazar said, getting to his feet and sliding a phone out of his pocket. “She may not be as well-informed as Naomi, but she’s closer.”

Castiel nodded, and Balthazar withdrew to the far side of the room, leaving Dean and Castiel alone. Dean tapped his fingers on the soft arm of the chair and said, “He has a cell phone.”

A faint smile appeared on Castiel’s lips. “Balthazar embraces modern technology more than I do. Possibly because he’s younger.”

“Possibly,” Dean agreed. He knew it wasn’t really his place to ask, but he did anyway. “What happened to him the other night?”

A shadow of anger flickered over Castiel’s face. “He was poisoned with dead blood.” 

Dean winced in sympathy. Benny had told him how terrible it was, how weak it made them. “Christ.”

“It was other vampires,” Castiel said tightly. “They wouldn’t have been able to surprise him otherwise.”

“You think it’s the same guys who are out there turning innocent kids?”

Castiel inclined his head, grimacing. “It seems probable.”

Dean sighed and tilted his head back to rest on the back of the chair. “What a fucking mess.”

Castiel let out a soft, surprised laugh. “Not the phrase I would use, but not inaccurate.” 

Turning his head to the side, Dean let himself take a good look at the vampire beside him. Even in his simple clothes, he was one of the most attractive people Dean had ever seen. 

“We should have a do-over,” he said, proud of the way he managed to keep his voice steady. “Since we were interrupted last time.”

Tensing, Castiel gave him a wary look. “Dean--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s bad timing.” Dean shrugged. “If we’re both going to be looking into this situation anyway, I don’t see the point in pretending we’re just working together. That wasn’t how this started and we both know it.”

“You’re very persistent. I’m flattered.” Castiel smiled, but there was something bitter in it. “If we continue down this path, I’m sure you’ll meet plenty of other vampires who will be more than willing to satisfy your thwarted desire.”

Dean drew back, stung. “Is that what you think this is?” he demanded. “Some sort of vampire kink?”

Castiel raised one dark brow. “Isn’t it?”

“No,” Dean said flatly. “And frankly, I’m pretty pissed that you think that lowly of me.” He paused, frowning. “Or is it all humans you think so little of?”

“In my experience,” Castiel replied coolly, “humans are drawn to the exotic, the dangerous, the thrilling. Vampires-- we represent all of that.” He shrugged. “If that’s what they’re looking for, I am willing to provide it. As are many others.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean said, equally cool, “in my experience, vampires are drawn to the simplicity, the urgency, and the intensity of humans. Until they realize it can’t last, and move on.”

Castiel’s eyes widened, and Dean could practically see him putting the pieces together in his mind. He was sharp-- of course, he had centuries of observing human behaviour to help him out. “Your experience-- Benny Lafitte?”

Dean’s jaw tightened, but he gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

“That isn’t really helping your argument about not having a fetish,” Castiel said flatly.

Sighing, Dean ran his hand through his hair. “Look. If you don’t want to see where this thing goes, fine. Just say so. You’re the one who was all about managing expectations from the start, right?” Throwing caution to the wind, he said, “But let me declare my intentions first. I’m hoping to finish what we started the other night, because even with that interruption?” He paused, letting his eyes travel slowly down Castiel’s body. “One of the best nights of my life.”

“Dean--”

“I’m going to help you figure this thing out no matter what,” Dean finished. “But I really think we deserve a second chance.”

Castiel’s eyes were intense on his. “I don’t want to put you in harm’s way. Being associated with me, it could endanger you.”

“I’m putting myself in harm’s way,” Dean countered. “Weak argument.”

“You really are persistent,” Castiel said again. “I suppose we both went into our date the other night with preconceived notions of how it would end.” He paused, a smile curling up one side of his mouth and giving Dean a glimpse of the seductive charm he’d been dripping with before. “And since we were robbed of that surely spectacular ending--”

“We owe it to ourselves to try again.” Dean grinned at him, relieved that he hadn’t made a total fool of himself and gotten shot down. “Exactly.”

“It’s late now.” Castiel glanced at the clock on the wall. “Perhaps tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Dean fought to keep the eagerness in his voice to an acceptable level. “But not here again.”

“No,” Castiel murmured. “I was-- being dramatic, as you would say, the other night. Which is not to suggest it was untrue. Only limited in its scope.”

“I get that.” Dean stood and crossed to Castiel’s chair, perching on its arm. “Somewhere neutral.”

“I’d be happy to escort you to a restaurant of your choosing, though I fear I won’t partake myself.” Castiel looked up at him, smiling, and Dean fought back the urge to drop a kiss on his cheek. 

“More for me, then,” Dean joked. 

Castiel rolled his eyes, but leaned forward, closing the gap between them. Their faces were only inches apart when Balthazar cleared his throat and said, “Oh, here I go, interrupting again.”

Cursing under his breath, Dean turned to face him. “Did you find anything out?”

“Sadly, no.” Balthazar shook his head. “Dumah has no insight to offer. She promised to let me know the instant that changed.” He raised one eyebrow as he looked between Dean and Castiel. “Somehow, I get the feeling you haven’t yet reached out to Naomi.”

“No,” Castiel answered. “We had another matter to settle.” He looked up at Dean with a wry smile. “But now that it has been agreed upon, I ought to make that call.”

As curious as Dean was, he could tell Castiel would prefer not to be distracted during his conversation with his maker. “I should get going,” he said, faking a yawn. “It’s getting late for us non-nocturnal types.”

“I’ll see you to the door,” Castiel said quickly, betraying his age with those old-fashioned manners.

“Bye,” Dean said to Balthazar with a little wave. “If you need to contact me, you can find me at the Roadhouse on Tuesday and Friday nights, or at Campbell Cakes on Sunday, Monday, and Thursday mornings.”

Balthazar smirked at him. “Oh, I’m sure Cas would prefer to be the one in _contact_ with you.”

“Yes, well.” Castiel coughed loudly and placed a hand on Dean’s lower back, guiding him towards the door. “I’ll be back shortly, Balthazar.”

Though he couldn’t feel the coolness of Castiel’s hand through his jacket, Dean shivered slightly at the touch, reminding him of their unfinished business. Once they were at the door, and angled slightly so they were blocked from Balthazar’s view, he took a step closer, eyes dropping to Castiel’s mouth with obvious intent. 

It was softer than their first kiss, more luxurious. Castiel wrapped his free hand around Dean’s shoulders and held him close, deepening the kiss only to pull away and then return, teasing. Dean mumbled a half-hearted protest and surrendered to it, to the wintry softness of Castiel’s lips and the rasp of his stubble against his cheek. 

Eventually, Dean drew back. “I really should go.”

“I know.” Castiel pressed another kiss to his lips. “I find myself reluctant to let you do so.”

“After the hit my ego took the other night, that’s nice to hear.” Dean kept his tone light, but Castiel winced anyway. “Hey, no. I’m not mad. I get it.” He reached up and smoothed his thumb over the sharp line of Castiel’s cheekbone. “Wanna know a secret?”

“At the risk of sounding dramatic,” Castiel said, leaning into the touch, “I love secrets.”

Laughing, Dean kissed him again. “You leaving was the main reason I came back tonight. Not just because I wanted to pick up where we left off, but because I knew it had to be a big deal. And I liked you better for dropping everything to help your friend.”

“Human logic baffles me at times, but that makes sense.” Castiel smiled at him, then stepped back and offered a low bow that would have looked ridiculous coming from anyone else. “Despite my initial reaction, I’m glad you came back.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “me too.” He zipped up his jacket and turned away, then looked back over his shoulder. “Tomorrow?”

And Castiel smiled at him, placing one hand over his heart. “It’s a date.”


	4. Chapter 4

He waited until morning’s first light to make the call. Balthazar had left a few hours earlier, fully restored and eager to return to his own home. Castiel stared at the phone, the long-memorized number running through his mind, then grimaced and dialed it before he could change his mind.

“I’d like to speak to Naomi,” he said.

There was a long pause. “Your name, please.”

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Inias, you know it’s me. Castiel.”

“And you know I must follow protocol. Your full name, Castiel.”

He hadn’t said it out loud in years. Something that was once such a large part of his identity now felt clumsy on his tongue. “Castiel Novak.”

Another pause. “Identify confirmed. Please hold.”

And Dean accused _him_ of being dramatic. Maybe this was where he had gotten it from. Castiel twirled the phone cord around one finger as he waited, mentally composing his speech but knowing Naomi would find a way to throw off his careful script. 

“Castiel.” Unlike Inias, Naomi betrayed no surprise-- or any other emotion. “It’s been too long.”

“That’s a matter of perspective,” Castiel replied tightly. “I need your help.”

A beat, and then-- “Of course.”

“Is there anything strange happening among our kind in Seattle?” he asked. Better to be vague and let her offer information than ask pointed questions she might dodge anyway.

She took a moment to reply, and whether it was due to careful consideration or simply because she enjoyed making him wait, Castiel couldn’t be certain. “No, not that I’m aware of. Strange in what way?”

Abandoning subtlety, Castiel said, “The Lawrence blood banks are seeing an unprecedented spike in new registrants, mostly subsidized, and last night, Balthazar was attacked and poisoned with dead blood.”

“That can’t be a coincidence.” No concern over Balthazar’s health, false or otherwise. Castiel shook his head, not sure whether to be dismayed or impressed at his maker’s coolness. “We haven’t had any similar incidents, and I spoke to many of the other leaders of our kind recently. The matter would have come up, so I believe it’s safe to assume this is limited to Lawrence.”

“But why here?” Castiel gazed out one of the stained glass windows, but could see nothing other than the glow of the streetlights. “If someone wanted to seize power, why not choose a bigger, more important city? Lawrence is meaningless in the grand scheme of things.”

“For precisely that reason, I presume. It would make an excellent place to build an empire that could be expanded later, after power and status had been consolidated. You should know this, Castiel.”

Hating himself for how stung he felt at her criticism, Castiel let out an impatient noise. “Who would be looking to make such a play?”

“There are a few I might expect this of,” Naomi said slowly. “I will make inquiries.”

Her network of resources was far larger than Castiel’s. “Thank you,” he said stiffly. “Please contact me as soon as you have any information.”

“I will.” Naomi paused, and Castiel could almost picture the slight, satisfied smile she would be wearing. “I’m glad to see you taking an interest in things, Castiel. You always had so much potential, and you’ve wasted it all these years. If anyone were to take up the mantle of power in Lawrence, it should be you.”

“Goodbye, Naomi.” Castiel hung up the phone before she could continue. Fortunately, she didn’t call back. 

Castiel slumped back in his chair and buried his hands in his hair. Some things never changed, and Naomi was one of them. For years, he had worked to remove himself from her influence, establishing a life for himself free of her strings. And yet here he was, as dependent on her as he had been four hundred years ago, when he awoke in her manor and learned he was no longer Castiel Novak, beloved youngest son of the Novak farming family, but Castiel, the vampire. 

She’d had ambitious plans for him even then. Had wanted him to stay at her side, her chief lieutenant. Those were harsher days, when they had to hide their true natures and do things Castiel still regretted in order to survive. He’d broken away, though, unable to stay so close to painful reminders of his previous life. Had wandered across Europe, leaving whenever things became too dangerous, before settling in England for a time.

That was where he had met Balthazar, an aristocrat who had fled France during the Revolution and come to England to live. He’d been turned quickly thereafter, and since Castiel was on peaceful terms with his maker, Dumah, they had seen a great deal of each other. They had made the decision to come to America together, and many others of their kind had followed.

Including, eventually, Naomi. 

Seattle was a long way away, but still too close for comfort. Castiel got to his feet and paced around the room, avoiding the scattered furniture with the ease of long familiarity. He had no doubt that Naomi would look into her suspects promptly. That wasn’t what worried him. No, he worried about what she might ask of him in return. Like all of their kind, she had a vested interest in their survival, but if she could find a way to benefit from the situation, she would.

There was little else he could do tonight. The sun was already beginning to stream in through the windows on the east side of the church. Castiel glanced at the phone one more time, but it remained silent. There would be no news until night fell again.

Yawning, he stripped off his shirt as he extinguished the candles and made his way down to the lower level. Less cluttered than the main floor, it was home only to his king-sized bed, a large dresser, and the old wooden trunk he’d carried across countries and borders that no longer existed. He paused in front of it, tracing his fingers over the worn initials carved into its lid.

It took him a long time to fall asleep, and when he did, he dreamed of golden fields under bright summer sun and the sound of beloved voices calling him home for a meal that would now taste like ashes in his mouth.

Dean had made them a reservation at a pizza restaurant not too far away from his family’s bakery. Castiel had walked past it many times, always admiring the exposed brick walls and the red-and-white checked tablecloths. He approved of Dean’s taste, and also of the thoughtfulness he’d displayed in selecting the venue for their date. They could order a pizza to be shared between them, and no one would notice that Castiel didn’t touch it.

He dressed carefully, reminding himself that it was a perfectly reasonable thing to do before a date and not necessarily a costume designed to attract or entice. His dark jeans paired nicely with the bright blue t-shirt under a casual black blazer. Looking in his mirror, he gave a satisfied nod and slid his wallet and keys into his pocket before leaving.

It was only a few blocks away, so he didn’t bother driving. He liked walking, even if he cast a more wary eye than usual at every person who passed him by. As usual, he arrived early. The hostess led him to a table tucked into the back corner of the space, which suited him perfectly. He smiled gratefully up at her and waited for Dean to arrive.

He walked in at five minutes past seven, catching sight of Castiel across the room and waving the hostess aside with a charming smile. Castiel rose to his feet, inhaling sharply. He had forgotten, somehow, just how attractive Dean was.

“Good evening,” he said.

“Hey, Castiel.” Dean’s smile widened. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Fashionably so.” Castiel waved him him into his seat with a shrug. “I won’t hold it against you.”

“Good, because I’m betting you’ve got one hell of a long memory.” Dean pulled the menu towards himself and examined it. “I’m also guessing you have no preferences about what I order.”

“No garlic, please,” Castiel said mildly, and was rewarded when Dean’s head shot up, his eyes wide.

“That’s a myth!” he exclaimed. Then he frowned. “Isn’t it?”

Taking pity on him, Castiel laughed. “It is. I’m just teasing you.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Great. A vampire with a sense of humour. I think I liked you better when you were being dramatic and brooding.” There was no bite in his words, though, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. 

Shrugging lightly, Castiel said, “I contain multitudes. After over four hundred years on this earth, it becomes tedious to fall too neatly into any one category.”

The mischief in Dean’s eyes faded, replaced by something else entirely. Castiel knew that look. He had seen it on Dean’s face the night of their first date, after their meal was finished and Castiel was leaning in close to him, teasing. Dean’s eyes had gone dark just as they were now, his lips softly parted and his breathing rapid. 

It was reassuring, at least, to see that Castiel had much the same effect on Dean as Dean did on him.

Before Dean could reply, their server stopped by to take their orders. Castiel requested a glass of red wine, Dean ordered a beer and a bacon and mushroom pizza. Once their server had left, Dean propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands, a faint smile playing around his lips. “So,” he said. “I’m dying to know how your phone call to Naomi went, but if you want to keep business for another time, I understand.”

Castiel shrugged. “I believe we came to the conclusion that we might as well mix business and pleasure, so I see no sense in avoiding it now.”

“Great.” Dean leaned forward, eyes alight with interest. “So what did Naomi have to say?”

“Unfortunately, not much of use.” Their server stopped by with their drinks, and they both looked up to smile and thank her before Castiel continued. “She said she might have some leads, but she’ll have to look into them. Nothing out of the ordinary is happening in Seattle, so it appears to be a local problem.”

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse,” Dean said grimly, taking a long swallow of his beer. 

“Worse.” Castiel shook his head and took a slow sip of his wine, letting the rich liquid linger on his tongue. “It means it’s going to be solely our responsibility.”

Dean waved a dismissive hand in the air. “You’ve already got backup. Even if it’s just information, Naomi is helping. I can get my brother to pitch in. He has contacts with the demons. And besides, you’ve got me.”

Castiel elected to ignore that comment and the various ways it could be interpreted. “You’ve mentioned your brother several times now,” he said instead. “Tell me more about him.”

“Now there’s the classic first date material.” Dean grinned, taking another sip of his beer. “What is there to say? His name is Sam, he’s four years younger than me, works in Paranormal Investigations. His girlfriend is a demon named Ruby who used to scare the shit out of me but mostly just makes me want to claw my face off now, but Sam’s head over heels for her. He’s the smartest guy I know, except in that case.”

“Love makes fools of us all,” Castiel said. “How did Sam end up in law enforcement and not joining the family business?”

Dean laughed, shaking his head. “Funny you should put it that way. Law enforcement is the family business, on the other side of the family. My dad was a cop, too. Regular, human stuff though.”

Past tense, Castiel noted. He wanted to know more, but didn’t want to press a sensitive issue. “Cops and bakers,” he noted with a smile. “A good combination.”

“Oh yeah. Mom used to joke that Dad only married her for a discount on his morning doughnut and coffee.” A shadow crossed over Dean’s face, but passed just as quickly. “Got a little bit too real when he walked out on us and shacked up with some other woman, but now Sam brings all his buddies by and they’re our most loyal customers, so it all worked out okay in the end.”

Castiel grimaced. “I’m sorry. I know it’s an inadequate thing to say, but--”

“It’s fine.” Dean shrugged philosophically, tapping his fingers against the side of his glass. “I mean, I hated him for a long time. I used to want to follow in his footsteps, but after he left, I realized he wasn’t such a great role model and stuck to the bakery instead. Turns out I’m damn good at it.”

“You are,” Castiel agreed, remembering Dean’s ease with him on his first visit, the warmth and welcoming environment of the place. “Sam didn’t feel the same way?”

Dean grimaced. “Oh, he was even more pissed than me at first. He wanted to go to law school for a long time, not have anything to do with either family business. Even started his pre-law degree. But then he started hanging out with Ruby and went wild for a few years, dropped out of school.”

Castiel could easily imagine how distressing that would be to an older brother as protective as Dean. “Is that why you dislike her so much?”

“Partially, yeah. We disagreed a lot. I thought she was just using Sam to get her kicks, typical demon stuff. But I guess he grew on her or something, made her get serious about him, because she was the one who eventually got through to him and convinced him to go back to school, but for law enforcement instead.” Dean shook his head. “And he’s so happy now.”

“So you resent her for being able to steer back Sam onto the path that ultimately led to his happiness,” Castiel summarized. “When you were unable to do so.”

Dean stared at him, a muscle jumping in his jaw. For a moment, Castiel thought he might storm out. Then Dean let out a long sigh and pointed an accusing finger at Castiel. “You,” he said, “are using your centuries of experience with human behaviour against me.” He shook his head. “You’re right. Of course you are.” He leaned in closer, and Castiel mirrored his movement. “Plus, she’s just kind of mean.”

Castiel pulled back, laughing. “I’ve never met a demon who wasn’t. It does tend to come with the black eyes. But they can also have their own sort of honour, and can be incredibly loyal to those they deem worthy.”

“I know.” Dean nodded. “Like I said, we get all sorts at the bakery, and I’ve got friends from all over the supernatural spectrum. I guess I was just lucky enough to grow up at the time where it was cool to know non-humans.”

“Yes, well.” Castiel smiled wryly. “It wasn’t always that way.”

Dean’s eyes softened, and he nodded. He looked like he was about to ask something else, but their pizza arrived, and they busied themselves eating-- or pretending to, in Castiel’s case. 

“I find myself still employing these survival tactics,” he explained, indicating the slice of pizza on his plate. “There is no real reason to fear any repercussions if the staff or other guests discover I am a vampire. I’m sure there are several other non-humans in this room.” He took a sip of his wine, looking around as he did. “But old habits die hard.”

“Well, if we’re right, you’ve got more to fear from other vampires right now than you do from some asshole humans.” Dean winced at his own words. “Sorry. That probably wasn’t very comforting.”

“No,” Castiel agreed. “But nor was it incorrect. Challenges for strength or territory are not unheard of among our kind, but as we’ve become more accepted in human society, they’ve decreased in frequency. There’s a general sense that there’s more than enough for all of us now, especially with the blood banks. A brilliant solution, really-- having us pay for our food just like anyone else, and using the money for social services for humans most in need of them.”

“We do have our moments,” Dean joked. He had a tiny smear of pizza sauce at the corner of his mouth. Without thinking, Castiel reached out and wiped it away with his thumb. 

Dean’s eyes went wide, and he swallowed visibly. “My apologies,” Castiel said quickly. “That was-- thoughtless of me.”

“No, it’s fine.” Dean laughed, but there was still something tense in the set of his shoulders. “Your hands are just cold.”

Castiel grimaced. “Yes. There’s little I can do about that.”

“No,” Dean said again, lowering his voice. “That, uh, wasn’t a complaint.”

His words hung heavily in the space between them. Castiel slowly lowered his arm, folding his hands neatly on the table. He watched as Dean’s eyes dropped to them, then lifted again, sheepish but not ashamed. Castiel wanted to see Dean’s eyes blown wide with pleasure, slipping closed as it became almost unbearable, opening again soft and sated. 

“Did you want to have the rest boxed up to take home?” their server asked brightly, having arrived unnoticed while Dean and Castiel were preoccupied with their staring. 

“Yes, please,” they both said at the same time.

“You two are adorable,” she said, winking at them. “It’s sweet when couples have been together so long they talk at the same time. I’ll be right back with this.”

She slipped away before either of them could correct her assumption. Castiel, did, however, have one point of contention to raise. “I am not adorable,” he said, adopting a deliberately overblown scowl. “I am immortal and intimidating and impressive.”

“Of course you are,” Dean said soothingly. “But me, on the other hand?”

“Oh, yes. We’re in agreement there.” Castiel raised his glass and saluted Dean with it before taking the last sip. “Clearly, I have much to learn from you in this regard.”

“Nah, you’re doing pretty well.” Dean winked at him, then smoothly took the bill out of their server’s hands before Castiel could grab it. “My treat,” he said firmly. “You cooked for me last time.”

Castiel scowled, the expression entirely in earnest now. “Very well,” he muttered. “You did eat most of it, after all.”

“Exactly.” Dean flashed a winning smile at their server, who flushed faintly. Castiel sympathized-- it was difficult to avoid reacting when Dean turned the full force of his considerable charm on you. 

They made their way out of the restaurant, Dean in the lead. There was a jauntiness to his steps that made his torso sway enticingly as he walked, and Castiel found himself admiring the cling of his jeans and the outward curve of his legs, all sorts of interesting possibilities running through his mind. 

He was so preoccupied that he almost ran right into Dean when he came to an abrupt stop. “Woah there, cowboy,” Dean murmured, catching him by the upper arms. “Slow down.”

Castiel took a step forward, closing the gap between them. Dean’s arms tightened reflexively around him, but he didn’t move. Leaning up, Castiel murmured into his ear, “The night is still young, especially for me. I’m in no hurry.”

He was rewarded with a faint shiver from Dean, but his voice was admirably steady as he replied. “Well, in that case-- what do you say we head back to my place?”

“Yes.” Castiel nodded, then stepped back out of Dean’s hold. “Please.”

“Right this way, then.” With a surprisingly sharp bow, Dean indicated the shining black car parked just across the street.

Castiel raised an eyebrow as Dean opened the passenger side door for him. “I didn’t picture you with a classic car, but now that I see it, I can’t imagine how anything else would be so right.”

“Yeah, well, Baby and I have been through a lot together.” Dean patted the steering wheel with obvious fondness as he slid into his seat. “She was my dad’s, but he left her behind when he ran off to his new family. Mom drove her for a few years, then gave her to me when I turned eighteen. She’s been with me ever since.”

Castiel frowned, struck by a sudden thought. “I recognize that this might be a rude question, but how old are you, precisely?”

Dean turned to him, amused, and Castiel hurried to explain. “Not that I’m concerned about any sort of age difference. That would be laughable. I just realized I didn’t know, and it can be difficult for me to gauge human age at times. Even the oldest among you are so young compared to me.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Dean shook his head, grinning. “But since you asked so rudely, I’m gonna make you guess.”

“No,” Castiel protested. “The results will be embarrassing for us both.”

“Come on.” Dean turned the keys in the ignition, raising one eyebrow in challenge. “Guess.”

Sighing, Castiel took a moment to examine him. Dean was youthful and energetic, but he had faint lines around his eyes and mouth that spoke to experience. It was probably better to flatter him by guessing younger than he suspected, at least at first. “Twenty-eight?” he said.

“Not bad, but nope.”

Sam was four years younger, and had already lived a fairly tumultuous life, from what Dean had said. He was likely in at least his mid-to-late twenties, so Dean ought to be--

“Thirty-two?”

“Close enough.” Dean grinned at him. “Turned thirty-three two months ago.”

Castiel nodded, satisfied. He hadn’t been paying much attention to where they were headed, too busy trying to make his guesses, but he looked out the window now, taking note of their surroundings. They were further out from the downtown core of Lawrence, but still within the blocks of shops and restaurants. 

Less than five minutes later, Dean pulled into a small parking lot behind a three-storey brick building. “It’s not much,” he said as he got out of the car, “but it’s home.”

Castiel looked around with interest as Dean led him inside. The building was older but well-maintained, the stairs creaking slightly as they made their to the top floor. Dean’s apartment had a cheerful mat outside the door, and Castiel dutifully wiped his feet before entering.

“So normally this is the part where I’d offer you a drink, but--” Dean laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. 

It was the first hint of vulnerability Castiel had seen from him, and it made something turn over in his chest, the way Dean shifted his weight from foot to foot as he stared at him. Castiel closed the distance between them and reached up to lay his hand against Dean’s cheek. Dean shivered, but his eyes remained wide, steady on Castiel’s.

“May I kiss you, Dean?” he asked, voice low.

Dean nodded almost imperceptibly. “Yeah,” he said, hoarse. “Yes.”

Sliding his hand around to the back of Dean’s head, Castiel drew him in and pressed their lips together. Dean let out a small noise of pleasure and brought his hands up to rest at Castiel’s hips, tugging him closer, and Castiel went without protest.

He could taste a faint hint of beer on Dean’s lips, but it didn’t bother him. Dean kissed with both passion and practice, and Castiel did his best to return the favour. Judging by the way Dean pulled away after a few minutes, breathing heavily, he succeeded.

Castiel took the opportunity to trail kisses down the side of Dean’s neck, along the curve of his jaw, under his ear. Dean shivered again, hands tightening on Castiel’s hips. They were so warm, burning even through the layers of fabric between them. 

That gave Castiel an idea. “You know,” he murmured, lips soft against Dean’s neck, “I can’t warm my hands, or any part of me, on my own. I need your assistance with that.”

Dean lolled his head to the side, fixing Castiel with a lazy look. “Oh yeah?” He slowly removed his own hands from Castiel’s middle and held them outstretched, palms facing upwards. “Show me.”

Castiel laid his hands over Dean’s. His were bigger, he noted with some surprise. He could feel the difference in temperature between them, and Dean smiled slowly, folding his hands over so Castiel’s were completely encased in their grip. “Like this?”

“Precisely.” Castiel leaned forward and brushed a gentle kiss against Dean’s lips. “I’m afraid this is where my nature is to take, but I assure you, I can give just as well.”

Dean let out a groan, his grip tightening. “Yeah?” His eyes dropped to Castiel’s mouth, a hint of challenge in his gaze. “Show me,” he said again.

“Gladly.” Castiel tugged on their joined hands, and Dean took the hint, steering them towards a half-open door. He pulled away for a brief second to flick on the lamp on the bedside table before coming back for another kiss.

As they kissed, Castiel began the process of removing his jacket. Once he was down to his t-shirt, he tugged lightly at the hem of Dean’s, and Dean stepped back far enough that he could pull it off. Dean’s skin was soft and freckled and so warm, though Castiel’s hands weren’t as cool as they had been a few minutes before. 

Moving backwards, Dean sat down heavily at the edge of the bed and tugged Castiel towards him. Castiel smiled against his lips and shook his head, then slowly, gracefully, sank to his knees.

He looked up in time to see the way Dean’s eyes flared wide, the visible bob of his throat. “Fuck,” Dean murmured. He reached out to stroke softly over the line of Castiel’s cheekbone, and Castiel twisted his head to press a kiss to the inside of his wrist.

“May I?” he asked again, resting his hands lightly on Dean’s denim-covered thighs. The muscles there jumped slightly under his touch as Dean nodded enthusiastically. 

It had been a while since Castiel had done this, but that only made it all the sweeter. Keeping his eyes fixed on Dean’s, he dragged the zipper of his jeans down. Dean lifted himself up from the bed so Castiel could remove them, his boxers following a moment later. 

Dean’s cock was flushed and hard. Castiel wasted no time getting his hands on it, relishing the groan that Dean let out as he tipped his head back, legs twitching slightly at the first touch of Castiel’s hands.

Leaning forward, Castiel pressed a kiss to the base of Dean’s cock, then dragged his mouth loosely along his length, pausing to focus on the head. Dean swore under his breath and Castiel smiled, swirling his tongue in a way that soon had Dean swearing again.

His hands were clutching the sheets beneath him, Castiel could see. Drawing back, Castiel reached out and took hold of Dean’s hand, guiding it to rest on the top of his head. “You sure?” Dean asked, his concern evident even under the roughness of his voice.

“You can’t hurt me,” Castiel said, looking up briefly. “I just want to bring you pleasure, Dean.”

“Oh, you’re doing that just fine,” Dean murmured. His hand tightened in Castiel’s hair as he said it, though, and when Castiel bent his head and reapplied himself to his task, the other one soon came up to join it.

He didn’t pull or tug on Castiel’s hair, just wrapped his hands through its strands, fingers moving slightly in a sort of massage like he couldn’t possibly accept this without giving something in return. Encouraged, Castiel looked up at him from under lowered lashes as he took Dean as deep into his mouth as he could manage, which was admittedly quite deep. Dean’s hands tightened for a brief second before easing again, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he stared down at Castiel with a fierce combination of hunger and awe in his eyes.

“Cas--” he said, choking off before he could finish saying his full name. “Oh, god.”

Reaching up, Castiel cupped his hand underneath Dean’s shaft, knowing his palms would have cooled again. The contrast between the heat of his mouth and the chill of his hand made Dean hiss, hips jerking suddenly. “Cas--” he said again, rougher this time, a warning.

Castiel didn’t pull away as Dean came, his entire body going taut. He let Dean hold him in place, hands curled tightly in his hair, working him through the aftershocks of his orgasm until Dean shuddered and slowly withdrew his hands. 

It took several seconds for Dean to recover his breath. “That was amazing,” he said, chest heaving. He slid his hands back to Castiel’s shoulders, trying to pull him closer. Castiel rose up and climbed onto his lap, kissing him softly. He was hard in his own jeans, pressing insistently against the stiff fabric, but he had enough control to ignore it for now.

Apparently, Dean had other ideas. His kisses turned hungrier, deeper, as he worked his hand between them and settled it over Castiel’s erection. Moaning slightly, Castiel rolled sideways so he was flat on his back, tugging Dean with him. 

Laughing, Dean looked down at him and pressed a kiss to the bolt of his jaw. “You want my hands? Or my mouth?”

Castiel shook his head, slightly dizzy from the thought of either. “Whatever you wish to give me.”

“Hmn.” Dean trailed kisses down his chest, lingering over his collarbone. “As tempting as it is to get my mouth on you, I admit--”

He didn’t continue, too busy sucking a dark mark low on Castiel’s abdomen. Castiel sighed and arched into the touch as Dean’s warm hands travelled lower, popping open his pants and slipping inside. His hand was lightly calloused and so warm against Castiel’s perpetually cool skin, and when he closed his hand around his cock, Castiel moaned. 

“Turns out, I’m pretty good at giving too,” Dean murmured against Castiel’s stomach. He stroked Castiel with an expert grip, using his free hand to hold his hips steady. Castiel laughed, breathless, and allowed himself to be lost to pleasure.

It wasn’t long before the familiar feeling rose, and Castiel looked down with hooded eyes as Dean increased the speed of his movements. “Come on,” he coaxed. “Let me see you, Cas.”

Maybe it was the unexpected intimacy of the nickname, said more deliberately than it had been before, but Castiel found himself biting down hard on his lip as his orgasm hit him. He spilled hot over Dean’s hand, shifting restlessly despite the hand at his hip. Dean kissed him again, right in the centre of his chest, and then rolled away to wipe his hand clean on a tissue.

“Mmn,” he said, flopping down beside Castiel. “Nice.”

Castiel rolled over, propping himself up on one elbow. “Not the word I would use, but yes, I suppose it was.” He might have chosen _remarkable_ , or _incredible_ , or even _magnificent_. But he was coming to appreciate Dean’s casual language, the way he could infuse even the simplest words with so much meaning. Judging by the fondness in his eyes as he looked at Castiel now, _nice_ was far from an insult.

Nevertheless, this part was always slightly awkward. Humans, especially men, tended to fall asleep shortly after sexual activity. Castiel was wide awake, and he didn’t know Dean well enough yet to spend time in his apartment alone while he slept. 

Clearing his throat, he said, “I should be on my way.”

A flicker of hurt passed over Dean’s features before he nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Castiel leaned over and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Not because I want to,” he explained. “You need to sleep. It’s still early for me.”

To his credit, Dean laughed. “Right. I, ah, kinda forgot, for a minute there.”

That gave Castiel pause. For Dean to suggest that he was so caught up in the moments shared between them, the sensations of it all, that he forgot Castiel’s nature-- remarkable indeed. A warm feeling settled in his chest, and Castiel kissed him again, on the lips this time. “Sleep well, Dean,” he said softly. “I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.”

“Text me when you get home,” Dean said, eyes already drifting closed.

In the middle of pulling his clothes back on, Castiel turned to shake his head at him. “I don’t have a cell phone, remember?”

“Right. Weirdo.”

“I accept that.” Fully dressed, he crossed to the other side of the bed and tugged the covers up over Dean’s body, giving him one last kiss. 

“Hey, Cas?”

Castiel paused at the edge of the room. “Yes?”

Dean sat up in bed, his hair rumpled and eyes serious.“I’m not joking. Let me know you got home safe, okay? We don’t know what could happen out there.”

“Right.” Castiel nodded. “Of course. I’ll leave you a message.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, sliding back down under the covers. “Goodnight, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

He made sure all the other lights were off, then slipped out of the apartment. Dean’s door locked automatically, for which he was grateful. He didn’t think Dean was in any danger, at least not yet, but it couldn’t hurt to be too careful. 

For that reason, he stuck to the main roads as he made his way across town. It was not yet midnight, early by his standards, and there was a lovely spring breeze in the air. Ordinarily, Castiel might have taken his time to walk home, stopping at a few of the all-night establishments that had sprung up over the years, but he was pulled straight home by his hope for any new information from Naomi. 

First, though, he had a call to make, and a few mischievous ideas about what to say. Hanging up with a satisfied smile on his face, Castiel lit the candles and settled back in his favourite chair with his book. Even if he didn’t hear back from Naomi tonight, he would still call the evening a success, and in these uncertain times, he would gladly take every one of those that he could.


	5. Chapter 5

Ever since Dean had moved out, Wednesday nights were reserved for family dinner. Over the years, the guest list had changed as he and Sam dated different people or brought home various friends, but the only time it was ever cancelled was if one of them was away, which didn’t happen often. 

So at six o’clock on the dot, Dean pulled the Impala into the driveway of his childhood home, a six-pack of beer under one arm. Pushing the door open, he kicked off his boots and headed for the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom.” Dean swept her into a hug and pressed a fond kiss to her cheek. “Smells good in here.”

“That still isn’t funny,” his mother said, rolling her eyes. It was a source of great amusement in the Campbell family that Mary had inherited the bakery and none of the kitchen skills that should have come along with it. After her mother stepped back, Mary had taken over the business side of the operation with ease, but hired their former neighbour Missouri as the head baker. She and Dean traded off mornings now, but she was starting to drop hints that she might retire soon, leaving Dean in charge. 

Mary’s lack of cooking abilities also meant that family dinner was a ramshackle, pieced-together meal, everyone bringing something that eventually added up to a whole. Dean usually offered to bring the main dish, but Sam had volunteered this week, so he was left with the beer run. 

“Sam’s not here yet?” he asked, looking around. 

“Traffic,” Mary replied, reaching out to snag a can of beer. “Not everyone drives the way you do, honey.”

Before Dean could reply, the doorbell rang. He exchanged an amused look with his mother. “How many times do we have to tell that girl,” she said, shaking her head fondly.

“I’ll get it.” Grinning, Dean made his way back to the front door and pulled it open to reveal Charlie’s smiling face. “Charlie. You know you can just come in, right?”

“Nope.” Charlie handed a large bowl of salad to him and shook her head firmly. “I know it’s unlikely anything like that would ever be happening here, but I have walked in on too many things I would rather not see. Always, _always_ knock first, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes as he led her into the kitchen. “Charlie thinks she’s going to walk in on something that would require brain bleach afterwards,” he declared. “You got a secret you want to share, Mom?”

Mary waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Please. If I were seeing anyone, you would be the first to know, Dean. Otherwise you would sulk, and you’re far too old for that now.”

“I do not sulk,” Dean protested, crossing his arms over his chest. Both Mary and Charlie raised pointed eyebrows at that, and he sighed, uncrossing them again. It was a blessing and a curse to be surrounded by people who knew him so well. 

Charlie had started working at the bakery back when she was in high school. She and Dean had immediately bonded over their shared fondness for Star Wars, and their friendship had only deepened over time. She had quickly been folded into family dinners the moment Mary realized she had no other family, and had been attending faithfully ever since.

She jumped up onto the kitchen counter, swinging her legs against the cabinets. “I’m starving,” she said, pressing a hand to her stomach. “I worked through lunch today and didn’t even realize it.”

“Must have been something interesting to keep you from remembering to eat,” Mary teased gently.

Charlie just laughed, nodding. “Yeah, it was, actually. We’re almost ready to launch the shift suppressant, so we were running some last minute tests. Everything’s going great.” She grinned, holding up her hand, and Dean dutifully fist-bumped her. “Madison’s over the moon, pardon the pun.”

Dean snorted with laughter. Charlie’s roommate Madison was a werewolf, and after hours of discussion with her, Charlie had convinced her medical lab to work on developing a shift-suppressing pill for werewolves that could allow them to remain human on the night of the full moon. “Like birth control, but for werewolves,” as Charlie had explained it.

“Must feel good, having the end in sight,” he commented.

“Totally.” Charlie gestured for him to hand her a beer, which he did. “We’ve been working on this for so long, you know? And it feels so good knowing how many people this can help.”

“It can be used as frequently or infrequently as you need, right?” Mary asked.

“Yup.” Charlie nodded enthusiastically. “Some weres we’ve talked to want to take it every month, especially the ones who were bitten. They say it gives them back control over their bodies. Others, especially some of the born weres, just like the fact that it’s available as an option. Got a wedding to go to that happens to be on the night of a full moon? No need to worry about wolfing out in the middle of the dance floor, and you can get your fur and fang on the next month.” She took a long swallow of her beer, grinning. “It’s pretty awesome, if I do say so myself.”

“Agreed.” Dean shook his head, smiling. “I’m proud of you, kiddo.”

Her eyes softened. “Thanks, Dean.”

“Ew, feelings.”

Dean sighed, biting back a rude remark as he turned to see Sam and Ruby in the doorway. He caught Sam’s warning look and offered a tight smile instead. “Hey,” he said. “Nice of you to join us.”

Ruby rolled her eyes and deposited the casserole dish she was carrying on the table with a loud thump. “You can always leave.”

“Hey.” Mary’s voice was stern. “Behave.”

Ruby smirked, but crossed the kitchen to give Mary a hug. “Only for you,” she said. “I’ll be nice if he does.”

“This never gets old,” Charlie said brightly, hopping down to hug Ruby as well. “Nice to see you.”

Dean shook his head, busying himself grabbing plates and cutlery. Maybe Castiel had been right that most of his issues with Ruby were more about himself than they were about her, since the rest of his family didn’t seem to be affected by them. He snuck a glance at Sam, who was lifting the lid off the casserole dish, the smell of lasagna filling the kitchen. He looked good, fit, and happy. Maybe it was time Dean was happy for him, too.

Thinking about Castiel definitely helped. Dean hadn’t heard from him in two days, but the message he had left once he got home had immediately been saved for future reference on lonely nights. Even thinking about it now, what Castiel had said in that rough, deep voice of his-- Dean had to push the thoughts aside so he didn’t let out some embarrassing noise in front of his whole family. 

He was only a little bit worried that Castiel hadn’t called since then. Their schedules didn’t exactly match up, and he knew Castiel didn’t have a cell phone, so on-and-off text conversations were out of the picture. It was really thanks to those two factors that he wasn’t experiencing too much post-hookup panic, wondering if he had somehow done something wrong or if Castiel wasn’t as into the idea of seeing him again as Dean was. Besides, they had other things to worry about. 

“Dean.” Sam snapped his fingers near his head, startling him. “Hey. Did you fall asleep standing up?”

“What? No.” Dean shook his head and shoved a pile of plates towards his brother. “Just thinking.”

“Are you going to share with the class?” Charlie asked as they sat down. “You totally spaced out there for a second.”

Ruby gave him a sly glance. “Somebody special on your mind?”

Three faces turned towards him, expectant looks on each of them. Dean took a deep breath and reminded himself that he was not going to get into a fight with Ruby. Only because his mother asked him not to. “No,” he lied. “I was just thinking about Charlie’s shift suppressants, and what could be next.”

Charlie nodded eagerly as she piled lasagna onto her plate. “Totally. If they’re as well-received once we launch as they have been in trials, we’re looking into what else we can develop.”

“Synthetic blood might be a good one to pursue,” Sam offered. “The blood banks are having a tough time keeping up with the demand all of a sudden. The system might not stay viable for long if this goes on.”

Dean leaned forward. “Did something else happen?” he asked eagerly. 

Sam sighed, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. “There was a bit of a scuffle earlier today. One of the regulars threw a fit because we ran out of O-Negative, complaining that she should get her choice since she pays for it, unlike the ones on the subsidized program. The volunteers were understandably freaked out, so they called us in.” He grimaced. “It was-- unpleasant, to say the least.”

“That’s the most convincing argument I’ve ever heard in favour of vampires being just like humans,” Ruby said, shaking her head. “Just as selfish and self-absorbed, only immortal.”

“We’re not all so bad,” Sam said, smiling at her. She didn’t quite smile back, but her eyes softened, and Dean had a sneaking suspicion they were doing something gross and sappy like holding hands beneath the table.

“Anyway,” he said pointedly. “What ended up happening?”

Sam’s smile turned sharp and satisfied. “We fined the one who started it for civil disturbance.”

Charlie raised her beer in a salute, grinning. “Way to go.”

“Yeah, she wasn’t too happy about it, but it was the best way to de-escalate at the time.” Sam took a bite of salad, chewing slowly. “We wanted to try to talk to some of the new registrants, but they were understandably cagey. We’re hoping they were reassured by our intervention, and some of them might be more willing to confide in us if we go back.”

“You could always let me talk to them,” Ruby suggested. “Unofficially, of course.”

Dean shook his head. “Why would they talk to you?”

“Didn’t you know? It’s all peace, love, and harmony between us creatures of the night,” Ruby shot back. 

“Yeah, clearly that’s working out. The vampires are attacking each other, what makes you think they’re going to trust a demon?”

Sam sat up, eyes narrowing. “The vampires are attacking each other?”

Dean let out a curse under his breath. He hadn’t exactly intended to let that detail slip, especially not in front of so many people. “Yeah. Uh. A friend of a friend got poisoned with dead blood the other night. They’re positive it was another vampire, because no one else could have gotten the drop on him.”

Sam let out a low whistle. “This is what you were asking about the other day, isn’t it? When you said something was happening with the vampires.”

Dean nodded, and a thoughtful look came over Ruby’s face. “There hasn’t been a big power struggle among the vampires for years,” she said. “If something’s going on, Crowley’s going to want to know about it.”

She looked at Dean, more serious than he had ever seen her. “I could tell him, but I have a strange feeling he would rather hear it from you.” A hint of her usual sarcasm showed through, but gentler than it would normally be. “Don’t ask me why, but I think he’d like you.”

Dean blinked at her, as confused by the tone as he was by her words. “Are you-- are you suggesting I just waltz into Hell and demand an audience with the king?”

“No, of course not.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll set up the meeting. Bring this vampire friend of yours. And for the record, it won’t be in Hell. Crowley has his own operation up here, spends most of his time there these days.”

That wasn’t exactly reassuring. But the demons had their own networks of information, and having their support could end up being very valuable. “Set it up,” Dean said, nodding. “I’ll tell Castiel.”

“So,” Charlie said slyly. “His name is Castiel?”

Dean threw a piece of lettuce at her, flushing. Sam was grinning, Ruby looked delighted at Dean’s embarrassment, and Mary-- Dean recognized that look in her eyes. It was the same one she wore every time one of them started seeing someone new, that mixture of wary hope and motherly ferocity. “Another vampire,” she said, giving him a sidelong look. “I see.”

“I just met the guy,” Dean muttered. 

“Yeah, and now you’re solving crimes together?” Ruby shook her head, eyes glinting. “That’s cute. All that adrenaline, getting into close corners together-- I’m betting we’ll be seeing this Castiel at family dinner within a month.”

“Six weeks,” Charlie countered, cheerfully extending her hand to Ruby. “Dean will deliberately push it back now that you’ve called it.”

“You gonna help me out here or what?” Dean said, glaring across the table at Sam.

“Oh, no.” A broad grin stretched across Sam’s face. “I’m not getting in the middle of this. I’m going to wait and see how it all turns out.”

“Traitor.” Dean scoffed and drained the last of his beer. “It’s not a big deal, alright? I mean, yeah, I like the guy, and I want to help him.” As close as he was with his family, he didn’t think this was the appropriate time to mention how scorchingly hot Castiel was, or how incredible he had looked on his knees two nights ago. “But I’m not placing all my hopes and dreams on him or anything.”

“Mmn.” Mary pressed her lips together. “How is Benny, by the way?”

Dean winced. It was natural her thoughts would run that way, considering the conversation, but it still hurt sometimes, hearing his name unexpectedly. “He’s good, I think. Haven’t seen him in a while. Dunno if that’s Andrea’s decision or his.”

Sam made a sympathetic face. “That sucks. I hoped you guys could have stayed friends.”

“Really, Sam?” Dean raised a pointed eyebrow at him. “You never liked Benny.”

“You never liked me,” Ruby said, shrugging. “You’d probably still be sad for Sam if I up and left him one day because I wasn’t strong enough to face the thought of losing him.”

Though he hated to admit it, she was right. The way his relationship with Benny had ended was still a sore point, not because Dean wanted him back, necessarily, but because he had cut ties so dramatically. Dean would have been happy to stay friends after the necessary mourning period had ended, but Benny wasn’t giving him the chance. 

“Dating immortal beings is the _worst_ ,” Charlie said dramatically. “At least you guys had the sense to pick ones who mostly spend their time in our world. Meanwhile I’m going back and forth between here and the Faerie realms as often as I can, but I can’t even share cool stuff from here with her because all my electronics stop working the second I cross the border.”

Her aggrieved tone was enough to lighten the mood, and even Dean found himself laughing at the look on her face. “Yeah, but come on, Charlie. You accidentally got sent to the Faerie realm during a LARP event and saved a beautiful damsel in distress, who turned out to be awesome and powerful when she wasn’t being taken advantage of by some scumbag, and now she’s your inter-dimensional girlfriend.” He grinned at her. “It’s like everything we ever dreamed about as kids.”

“I know.” Charlie shook her head, a smile creeping back onto her face. “And if this shift suppressant goes over well and we get additional funding, you can bet your asses I’m going to pitch some sort of device that will let me bring my Blu-Rays into Faerie.”

Dean stood and got another beer. “Cheers to that.” He tossed one to Charlie, who caught it easily with a nod of thanks. “Anybody else need anything?”

“I’m stuffed.” Mary pushed back her chair, closing her eyes with a satisfied sigh. 

“Oh come on, Mom. I know you have room left for dessert.” Sam grinned at her, dimples showing in his cheeks. “It’s not family dinner without Campbell’s to cap it all off.”

Charlie stood up and grabbed the white box from the counter, placing it in the centre of the table. “Let’s see what we’ve got here-- date squares, white and dark chocolate mousse, mini pecan pie--”

“Dibs,” Dean said quickly, reaching into the box. “Pecan pie is mine.”

Mary rolled her eyes, propping her chin on one hand. “Yes, Dean, I brought that one just for you.”

“Thanks, Mom.” His words were muffled by the fact that he was already taking a bite. “So good.”

“You know you can make yourself pecan pie any time you want it,” Sam pointed out, taking the date square for himself.

“Not the same.” Dean shook his head. “Same recipe, I know, but it’s always better when someone else makes it for you.”

The conversation soon dissolved into good-hearted bickering, and the next time Dean glanced at the clock on the wall, he was shocked to see it was already ten o’clock. “I should head out,” he said, getting to his feet. “Bakery won’t open itself tomorrow.”

“That’s why you’re going to make an excellent owner,” Mary said, tilting her face up to receive Dean’s kiss to her cheek. “So responsible.”

“Nice.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Knew you’d find a way to sneak that in somewhere.”

“We are going to have a conversation about that,” she warned him.

“Yeah, I know.” Dean pressed a kiss to the top of Charlie’s head and nodded to Sam and Ruby. “See you next week.” He hesitated, then said to Ruby, “Let me know as soon as you set up the meeting with Crowley.”

“Aye aye,” she said, giving him a mocking salute. “Don’t get yourself into too much trouble before then.”

“I’ll do my best.” With one last wave, Dean headed for the door. 

Sam caught up to him in the hallway, stopping him with a hand on his elbow. “Hey. Hold up.”

“What?” Dean frowned at him, wary. If he didn’t want to talk about this in front of the others--

“I just got a message from Alicia. Somebody called in some suspicious behaviour outside a club downtown, but by the time they got there, the suspect and the victim had fled. The source caught a picture. The quality’s crap, but here.”

He extended his phone for Dean to see. The alley was poorly lit, and the suspect was half-turned away, leaving Dean only with the impression of height and a severe face under a black hoodie. He frowned, zooming in, but couldn’t pick out anything else.

“Can you send that to me? I’ll show it to Cas, see if he recognizes him.”

“Cas, huh?” A flash of a grin appeared on Sam’s face before he turned serious again. “Yeah. It might just be regular, human violence, but there was a faint blood splatter left in the alley, and it’s not far from where you say this other vampire was attacked.”

“I’ll look into it,” Dean promised. His phone beeped with the message Sam had sent, and he checked it before sliding the phone back into his pocket. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Be careful.” Sam pulled him in a for a quick hug, thumping him on the back. “I don’t like this, Dean.”

“That’s why we’re going to stop it.” Dean pulled back and shook his head at his brother. “Night.”

“Goodnight.” 

Dean could see him lingering in the doorway as he made his way back to his car. He slid into the driver’s seat, but didn’t immediately start the engine. He really needed to get home and get some sleep, but he didn’t want to wait until tomorrow night to share the photo with Castiel. If only he had a cell phone, like most people, so he could just send it to him--

There was no use dwelling on the what-ifs. Fighting back a yawn, Dean backed the Impala out of his mom’s driveway and headed towards Castiel’s.

Parking across the street, he realized he probably should have called first. He knocked firmly on the door, shifting his weight from side to side as he waited.

“Dean?” Castiel pulled the door back, a hesitant look on his face. “This is an unexpected pleasure.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Dean managed a smile, but he knew it was a weak effort. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Castiel stepped back and ushered him inside. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

“I can’t stay long.” He wanted to. He wanted to throw his arms around Castiel and lose himself in the lush landscape of his body, but that wasn’t why he was here. “I have news.”

“Oh.” Castiel blinked at him. “Forgive me. I thought--”

“You thought I was here for a repeat of the other night?” Dean finished. “Trust me, it’s on my mind too. But so is this.”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, opened the photo from Sam, and passed it to Castiel. “Recognize this guy?”

Castiel went unnaturally still. There were times when Dean forgot he wasn’t human, but then he would move a certain way, like this, and it would be a stark reminder that he was something _other_.

His heart sank in his chest. “You do, don’t you.”

“His name is Gadreel.” Castiel’s voice was pitched low, but Dean could hear the barely contained anger in it. “I have not seen him in many years. He kept a low profile, stayed neutral in any disputes. Why would he--” He broke off, clutching the phone so tightly Dean was afraid he would snap it in half. “Why would he do such a thing?”

“You tell me.” Dean shook his head, uneasy. Part of him had been hoping it was someone unknown to Castiel, some cocky new kid whose ambition had gotten the better of them. Someone old and experienced would be a much more challenging enemy. “Power, I guess? That’s what it all comes down to in the end, right?”

“He was never the type to seek glory.” Castiel stared down at the phone as though the picture would give him the answers he was looking for. “Not when I knew him, anyway.”

Dean bit his lower lip, then sighed and took a step closer, placing a gentle hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “People change,” he said softly.

“You forget, Dean.” Castiel looked down at Dean’s hand on his arm and gently shrugged it aside. “We’re not people.”

Dean just stared at him for a moment, then folded his arms across his chest. “Bullshit,” he said flatly. “Don’t give me that eternal being of darkness crap, Cas. I know it’s rough when you realize you might have been wrong about someone, but it’s about them, not you and anyone else who happens to have fangs and a severe allergy to sunlight.”

“It is about all of us,” Castiel snapped. His eyes glittered dangerously in the light from the candles all around the room. “He is making it about all of us with his behaviour. If he continues this way, how long do you think the fragile peace we’ve achieved with humans will last? When he turns too many and one of them slips, drinking from a person and not a bottle, what then? Forgive me, Dean, but I don’t have the luxury of being so blasé about this!”

Throwing his hands in the air, Dean matched his scowl. “I am not being blasé. I’m trying to make you feel better, asshole.”

Castiel’s shoulders gradually relaxed, the set of his jaw loosening. “I appreciate the effort,” he said quietly. “I truly do. My apologies for my overreaction.”

“Yeah, well, I can understand that.” Raising one eyebrow, Dean said, “If I come over there and touch you, are you going to do that excellent impression of an offended cat again?”

A faint smile appeared on Castiel’s face, and instead of answering, he reached out and pulled Dean against him. “Comparing me to a cat doesn’t really lend support to your argument that I am people, Dean.”

“Stop overcomplicating it.” Dean rested his head against Castiel’s broad shoulder, rubbing his cheek against the softness of his shirt. “This feels nice.”

“It’s silk.” Castiel’s chest rumbled as he spoke, the vibrations running through Dean’s body.

“Of course it is.” Fortunately, his grin was hidden by his current position. Briefly, he wondered if this fondness for silk extended to Castiel’s bedsheets, then pushed that intriguing thought aside until it could be properly investigated. 

After a moment, Dean drew back. “So what are you going to do?”

Castiel ran a hand through his hair, making even more of a mess of it. “I suppose I’ll have to reach out to Naomi again.” He didn’t sound too thrilled at the prospect. “Ask her for any information she’s gathered on Gadreel over the years. Anything that could help explain this.”

“Makes sense.” Dean nodded. “Oh. By the way. Speaking of information, I’ve somehow gotten myself an audience with the King of Hell, thanks to my brother’s demon girlfriend. You should probably come with me.”

“With Crowley?” Castiel frowned, an expression of distaste on his face. “I’d rather not.”

“Do you know him?” As far as Dean was aware, the vampires and the demons didn’t have a lot to do with each other. He couldn’t think of a reason for Castiel and Crowley to have met.

“Not well.” Castiel shrugged. “There hadn’t been a strong vampire presence here before I arrived, and Crowley likes to keep tabs on this city. He’s fond of it, for some reason. Our audience was brief, but there’s a reason it hasn’t been repeated since then.”

“Noted.” Dean reached out and took hold of Castiel’s hand. “But maybe he can help us. Ruby says he’s pissed about all the new vampires, so he has as much of a reason as we to do want to stop this. And he is the King of Hell, after all. He must have resources.”

“Oh, he does,” Castiel said darkly. “Very well. But I will remind you of this conversation afterwards, when you are regretting ever putting yourself in his line of sight.”

“Noted,” Dean said again. Castiel’s hand was gradually warming in his own, and he shivered, remembering the way those hands had felt on his bare skin the other night. “I should go.”

“Yes,” Castiel murmured, but made no move to release him. Instead, he raised their joined hands to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to Dean’s knuckles. “It was good to see you, Dean. Even bearing such troubling news.”

Though he would deny it to his last breath, something warm swelled in Dean’s chest at the courtly gesture. He stepped forward and kissed Castiel, softly, then pulled back before he lost any semblance of control. “Goodnight, Castiel. I’ll let you know when Ruby sets up the meeting with Crowley.”

“Sleep well, Dean.” Castiel walked him to the door, leaning against the wall as he watched Dean pull his boots back on. “I will see you soon.”

It was way past his bedtime now, so Dean could be excused for the way he yawned in reply. Castiel’s eyes softened and he gave Dean a gentle nudge towards the door. “Please call me when you arrive home safely,” he said.

“I will.” Dean gave him one last wave, then pulled the church door closed behind himself. 

He yawned the entire way home, then stumbled through the routine of brushing his teeth and getting undressed. He spared a few precious minutes to jerk off quickly, not having to reach far for inspiration: the feeling of Castiel’s silk shirt under his hands, the press of his lips and the long lines of his body against Dean’s. Sated, he drifted off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

As a general rule, vampires and demons avoided each other as much as possible.

There were exceptions, as with any rule, but the fragile peace between the two groups was best maintained by limiting their interactions. The demons far outnumbered the vampires, and they both knew it.

It was with this in mind that Castiel drove through the dark streets of Lawrence, headed towards Campbell Cakes. Dean had suggested meeting him there and travelling to the King of Hell’s residence together, and Castiel had agreed. He wasn’t afraid of Crowley-- he was too subtle, too scheming to resort to any outright violence, especially when there was information to be gathered instead. But he couldn’t help a slight feeling of unease at the thought of being surrounded by so many demons, and of Dean being there with him.

The bakery was dimly lit, but the door was unlocked. As Castiel entered, Dean rose to his feet, a look of resignation on his face as he gestured at his companion. “Hey, Cas. This is Ruby. She’s coming with us tonight.”

“Ah.” Castiel turned his attention towards her. She was a striking young woman, despite the sardonic look on her face. “Good evening, Ruby.”

“Spare me the courtesies,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Castiel, is it? Cool. Let’s go.”

Dean grimaced as he placed a hand on Castiel’s elbow and guided him towards the door. “I would say she grows on you, but it would be a lie.”

Castiel shrugged, not at all bothered by her abrasiveness. “Her protection will be useful.”

“See?” Ruby grinned sharply at them over her shoulder. “He gets it. Crowley and I aren’t exactly close, but he knows who I am, and trust me, this will go a lot more smoothly with me there.”

Dean still looked displeased, so Castiel pressed a swift kiss to his cheek. “Let’s just get this over with,” he murmured. Dean softened slightly, his shoulders relaxing, but made no reply.

Once outside, Castiel motioned towards his car. “I can drive.”

Ruby shrugged, but Dean followed the direction of his movement and froze, a look of horror on his face. Castiel tensed, preparing for a fight, but all Dean said was, “That’s your car?”

Castiel frowned, looking at his gold Lincoln Continental. It had served him well enough over the years. “Yes?”

“Wow.” Dean shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. “That’s-- amazing. And horrifying. All at the same time.”

His reaction made little sense to Castiel, but then again, Dean had an endless capacity for surprising him. “I resisted purchasing an automobile for a long time,” he explained as he opened the door for Ruby. “Balthazar finally convinced me, and this was what was popular at the time. I’ve never needed to replace it, so I haven’t.”

“Just what we always needed,” Ruby muttered. “A hipster vampire.”

Castiel turned to her, raising one eyebrow. “I think a hipster vampire would be one who collected artifacts from a time before they lived,” he corrected her stiffly. “Not one who has kept those he accumulated over the course of his long existence.”

Dean grinned at him over the top of the car as he slid into the passenger seat. “Hit a sore spot, did she? She has a tendency to do that. Gotta say, it’s kinda nice for it to be directed at somebody other than me for once.”

Shaking his head, Castiel got behind the wheel. Ruby gave directions from the backseat, and twenty minutes later, they pulled into a long driveway leading to an enormous house on the outskirts of town.

There were guards at the gate, but Ruby simply leaned out the window and flashed her black eyes at them. The guards gave Dean and Castiel careful looks, but waved them through. “They’ll let Crowley know we’re here,” Ruby said, settling back against the seat. “Then start gossiping about it themselves. News travels fast on demon networks.”

“Will they know who I am?” Castiel asked, twisting to look at her.

“Maybe.” She gave a shrug that clearly displayed her lack of concern. “Some of them might. Some of them will just think I’m bringing Crowley some new friends.”

Castiel grimaced at the emphasis on that last word. He absently patted the silver anti-possession charm hanging around his neck, glancing over the make sure Dean’s was clearly visible as well. It could be torn off, of course, if a demon were truly determined, but to do so would ignite a diplomatic catastrophe that Castiel doubted Crowley would enjoy. They were as safe as they could be. 

He still didn’t like this.

A smartly-dressed demon took the keys to Castiel’s car when he pulled up in front of the house. “Valet service?” Dean let out a low whistle. “Impressive. Good thing we took your car, though, cause I don’t let just anybody behind Baby’s wheel.”

“He is the king, after all.” Ruby stepped out and adjusted her leather jacket, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “He likes to make sure nobody forgets it.”

Another demon met them inside and led them down the glittering hallway. Castiel vaguely remembered this from his first visit, years ago, but it looked like Crowley had re-decorated. Unlike Castiel, he apparently preferred to keep up with modern trends. 

“Are you okay?” Dean’s voice was pitched low, so neither Ruby nor their guide could hear him. “You look a little tense.”

Castiel shook his head, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I am-- apprehensive, would be the most accurate word.”

Dean looked at him for a moment, then nodded. “Not because you think something might happen to us. But because you think Crowley will tell us something. Some bad news.”

“You’re very perceptive.” Castiel’s smile turned wry. “Yes, I do. Crowley thrives on secrets, not just those of demons but of humans and other creatures as well. I am fully expecting him to reveal something critical, and while I look forward to acquiring another piece of this puzzle--”

“You’re braced for another betrayal.” Dean nodded sympathetically and clasped him by the elbow once more. “Well, like you said, let’s get this over with.”

They had paused outside a set of ornately carved doors while their guide conferred with the guard there. “You first,” he said, nodding at Ruby. “You can make the introductions to the king.”

“He already knows who they are,” Ruby pointed out.

The guard shrugged. “It’s court procedure.”

“And you call me dramatic,” Castiel whispered into Dean’s ear, rewarded with a soft huff of laughter.

“Fine.” Ruby strode forth confidently, Dean and Castiel falling into step behind her, and the heavy doors slammed shut after them.

The room was full of demons, all eyes on them as they made their way towards the throne at the far end of the room. Just as Castiel remembered, Crowley looked unthreatening until you were close enough to see the sharp intelligence in his gaze. He was immaculately dressed in unrelieved black, one leg crossed over the other as he reclined on his throne.

Ruby stopped a few feet away and made a brief bow. “Your Majesty. As requested, I present Dean Winchester and the vampire Castiel.”

“Hello, boys.” Castiel bristled at being called a boy, but technically, Crowley was the older of the two of them. “I must say, you’re not quite what I was expecting.”

Head held high, Dean stepped forward. “Neither are you. Shouldn’t you have a crown or something?”

Castiel tensed, hoping he hadn’t immediately ruined any chance they might have had at a smooth conversation, but Crowley just smiled. “Don’t need one,” he said. “They never suited me. But you--” his eyes travelled slowly from Dean’s head to feet in a way that made Castiel bristle even more-- “might look quite fetching in one.”

If he didn’t interrupt now, this could go on forever. Castiel moved to stand beside Dean, leaving little space between them. Let Crowley make of that what he would. “It’s good to see you again, Crowley, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

Crowley waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Circumstances change. You and I are eternal.” He sat forward in his throne, interest sparking in his eyes. “Ruby tells me you have a sticky situation among your kind.”

“We do.” Castiel took a deep breath before continuing. “Someone is turning new vampires at an alarming rate.”

“I’m aware.” Crowley’s mouth tightened, and for a brief moment, Castiel was reminded just how powerful he was. “My demons have been scavenging for desperate souls. We’re finding fewer and fewer of them.”

“It’s not just that.” Castiel shook his head. “A friend of mine, Balthazar, was attacked. Poisoned, with dead blood.”

At that, Crowley’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Dean glanced at Castiel, who nodded. It was time to show their full hand. 

“We think this might be the vampire behind it.” Dean offered his phone to Crowley, the picture of Gadreel open on the screen. “We were hoping you might be able to track him for us.”

Crowley looked down at the phone for a long moment. “You’re certain this is the one responsible?”

Castiel shrugged. “Reasonably so.”

“Then I take a certain delight in informing you that you’re wrong.” Crowley passed the phone back to Dean and steepled his hands together, resting his chin on top of them. “I know this one. He came to see me, about two months back, seeking my permission to establish territory here in Lawrence.”

A shocked silence fell over the audience chamber. Dean turned to look at Castiel, his eyes wide with surprise. Castiel closed his own, fighting back a wave of rage, then opened them again to meet Crowley’s gaze. “And you agreed?”

“He didn’t exactly tell me he was going to start snatching up all my potential soul deals!” Crowley snapped. “He was reserved, but polite. Asked a lot of questions about the city, its inhabitants-- human and otherwise. The same questions I remember you asking me, Castiel, the first time we met.”

Castiel’s jaw tightened, but he couldn’t argue that point. It was exactly what he had done when he had first moved to Lawrence all those years ago. “What did you tell him?”

“The truth,” Crowley said. “Told him it was a good place to be a supernatural creature, that the police force treated us better than they did elsewhere.” He looked at Ruby as he spoke, and she dipped her head in acknowledgment of her connection to one police officer in particular. “Told him there was no major vampire player in town.” He paused for a moment, a flicker of what might have been regret in his eyes. “I might have mentioned your name, though. And Balthazar’s.”

“Painting a target on both their backs,” Dean said grimly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Great. Thanks a lot.”

“Was I supposed to know this was how it would turn out?” Crowley rose to his feet and descended the few steps to their level. “I thought, if the vampires want to fight amongst themselves, fine. It might be amusing. But this is getting out of hand, and if the humans--” he glanced at Dean, measuring-- “decide we’re getting too ambitious, we’re all at risk.”

“Agreed.” Castiel fought to keep his voice level. “So how do you propose we stop it?”

“I’m getting to that.” Crowley looked at the demons clustered along the sides of the room, all of whom immediately snapped to attention. “These useless layabouts will set themselves to finding this Gadreel, as soon as possible.” He turned to Ruby. “You can connect them with the police. Share information as you acquire it.”

Ruby nodded, face grave. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And in the meantime.” Crowley turned back to Dean and Castiel, grimacing. “There’s one other detail I haven’t yet mentioned.”

“Of course there is,” Dean muttered under his breath. 

Crowley gave him a sidelong look, but didn’t comment on his disrespect. “Gadreel isn’t the mastermind behind this. He’s just the muscle.”

Castiel had been braced for a blow, but this one still struck him with enough force to make him step back. “How do you know that?”

“He told me.” Crowley scowled. “Unfortunately, he didn’t tell me who it is. Only that another vampire, one older and more reclusive than himself, would be coming to Lawrence with him.”

“And you didn’t press him on the matter?” Castiel found that hard to believe. Crowley dealt in information-- why would he allow any piece of it to be kept from him?

“I was distracted at the time,” Crowley replied archly. “Hell isn’t exactly a sauna, you know.”

Castiel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Naomi will know who Gadreel associates with,” he said to Dean. “We can figure this out.”

“Naomi?” A slow, oily grin spread across Crowley’s face. “Oh, yes. You’re one of hers. I’d almost forgotten. Please do pass along my greetings when you speak to her.”

Dean made a disgusted face that captured Castiel’s feelings perfectly. “I’d really rather not,” he said.

“Have it your way.” Crowley shrugged. “It was a long time ago, anyway.” He turned his speculative gaze towards Dean. “Why don’t you run along, Castiel, and allow me to become better acquainted with your charming companion? To think, I used to mock Ruby for her attachment to a Winchester-- I’m beginning to see the appeal.”

Castiel tensed, stepping forward, but Dean beat him to it. “I’m spoken for,” he said, slipping an arm around Castiel’s waist. Castiel glanced down at him, startled, but managed to keep his face expressionless, showing none of the surprise he felt. 

“Pity,” Crowley sighed. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Dean gave him a tight smile. “Yeah. Sure.”

There was little else left to say, and Castiel was tired of this dance. “We’ll take our leave.” Though he hated to do it, he made the briefest of bows in Crowley’s direction. “We appreciate your assistance.”

“Don’t think I won’t remember this when I need yours, someday,” Crowley replied. “Go.”

Ruby hurried to join them, breaking off the whispered conversation she had been having with two other demons. “Come on,” she said under her breath. “Let’s go before he changes his mind.”

Castiel could feel Crowley’s eyes on them the whole way back to the doors, and he shivered under the chill of that stare. Beside him, Dean’s face was blank, but a muscle jumped in his jaw, betraying the turmoil below his calm exterior. 

They didn’t say another word until they had pulled out of the gates enclosing Crowley’s mansion. Letting out a deep sigh, Dean slumped back in his seat, head lolling to the side as he looked back at Ruby. “When you said you thought Crowley would like me, I didn’t think that was what you meant.”

“What else could I have meant?” she shot back. “Not like you’ve never flirted your way to getting what you wanted before, Dean.”

Castiel looked over at him, intrigued, and Dean grinned sheepishly in response. “Okay, fair. Still. I would have preferred the information without all-- that.”

“As would have I,” Castiel said fervently. “Will the demons find Gadreel?” he asked, eyes flicking to Ruby’s in the rearview mirror. 

“Oh, definitely,” she replied. “They’re all be scrambling over themselves to find him first and win Crowley’s approval for a minute or two.”

“That’s encouraging,” Dean muttered. “So in the meantime, we just wait?”

He sounded so aggrieved at the idea that Castiel had to smile. “And we reach out to Naomi again.”

“Right.” Dean nodded. “Okay.”

“Can’t believe I got roped into being involved in this any more than I already was.” Ruby sighed. “Drop me off at the station, will you? Might as well tell Sam we’re going to be working together now.”

Castiel nodded and made a sharp left, heading for the police station. He thought Dean might leave there as well, but when they pulled up outside, he made no move to exit the vehicle. “Later,” he said to Ruby. “Say hi to Sam for me.”

She nodded, then leaned forward. “You did good tonight,” she said. 

Judging by the look of surprise on Dean’s face, such praise was unusual. With a little wave to Castiel, Ruby closed the car door none-too-gently and sauntered off into the station.

“So,” Dean said, watching her go, “that’s Ruby.”

“I begin to understand why your relationship is, ah, complicated.” Castiel glanced over at him, hesitating. “Do you want me to take you back to the bakery, or--”

Dean turned to look at him, a gleam in his eyes that had Castiel immediately sitting up straighter. “No,” he said. “I made a pretty bold statement tonight, and you didn’t contradict me.” He paused, smiling slightly.

He was referring, of course, to the moment he had said he was spoken for. Castiel swallowed roughly, his assumption that it had been exaggerated in face of Crowley’s attentions receding. “You did. And I didn’t.”

“I know we haven’t known each other that long.” Dean laughed, shrugging. “Especially for you. Must feel like the blink of an eye.”

“In some ways,” Castiel murmured. “In others--” He trailed off, holding Dean’s gaze, hoping he would understand. 

Judging by the way his smile widened, he did. “Look. I’m sure for you, contemplating eternity is an average Tuesday night. But for me, life’s too short to pass up a good thing. And you? You’re a damn good thing.”

His voice went low on those last words, sending a shiver of anticipation down Castiel’s spine. “So, I think that deserves celebrating,” Dean continued, all studied casualness as he linked his hands behind his head and stretched, drawing Castiel’s eyes to the long lines of his body. “Don’t you?”

If it took Castiel a moment to reply, surely he couldn’t be blamed for it. “Yes,” he said hoarsely, and turned the key in the ignition.

He got them back to his house in record time, the smile never slipping from Dean’s face as he drove. Once they were inside, Dean reached for him immediately, pressing his lips to Castiel’s with all the urgency of a tense situation survived unscathed. Castiel groaned at the feel of Dean’s lips on his and walked them backwards further into the room, only bumping into one table and causing them to break apart to laugh, breathless. 

“Hey,” Dean said, pulling away for a moment. “I never did get the full tour of this place.”

Castiel rather enjoyed the atmosphere of the main floor of his home: the roses, the many useful pieces of varied furniture, the lamps and candles that cast intriguing shadows over Dean’s face. But there was something to be said for a wide bed and soft sheets--

“An oversight we shall immediately rectify,” he murmured, pressing a kiss right under Dean’s ear and enjoying the way it made him shudder in response. He slipped his hand into Dean’s and tugged him towards the stairs in the far corner of the room. “Right this way, good sir.”

Dean’s amused laughter rang in his ears as they descended the stairs. Castiel’s own eyes adjusted perfectly to the dark, so he advised Dean to wait at the bottom until he lit the candles on the desk and nightstand, casting a warm glow over the room.

“So this is your lair,” Dean said, planting his hands on his hips as he surveyed the room. His gaze lingered on the enormous bed at the centre, and he took two steps over to it, reaching down to stroke the pillows piled at the head. “Silk,” he muttered under his breath. “I knew it.”

“It is my preferred material,” Castiel said. He moved closer as he spoke, until he was right beside Dean. “An indulgence, but a worthwhile one.”

“I bet.” Dean’s voice was rough, but his eyes steady on Castiel’s as he continued to stroke the soft surface of the pillow with rhythmic movements. “I think I could use a bit more indulgence in my life.”

If that wasn’t a signal, Castiel didn’t know what was. He cut off any further words with a deep, open-mouthed kiss that left them both slightly unsteady. Fortunately, the bed was right there to catch them, and they tumbled onto it together, hands roving over each other’s bodies as they fell.

The first time they had been intimate, Castiel hadn’t taken his time, hadn’t properly displayed his appreciation of Dean’s beautiful body. He did so now, kissing every inch of skin as he peeled away Dean’s clothing, hearing his breathing lose steadiness as he did. He tossed the garments to the side as he removed them, not caring where they landed as long as they weren’t between him and Dean any longer. 

When Dean was down to just his boxers, Castiel slid back slightly so he could admire him properly. In all the long years of his existence, Castiel had seen many beautiful bodies, but he never tired of taking the time to learn a new one, its dips and crevices and places of surprising response. Dean, he discovered, was particularly sensitive along his sides-- if Castiel trailed his fingertips over those areas with even the slightest pressure, he would shiver in a most agreeable manner. 

“Hey,” Dean said as Castiel repeated the motion. “Let me--” He reached forward, hands flexing to make contact with Castiel’s hips, but Castiel wasn’t quite ready to give up his exploration. He circled Dean’s wrists with his hands and folded them back at his sides, and that was when Dean let out a groan that had Castiel instantly alert.

“Dean?” he asked. He loosened his grip, though it hadn’t been tight to begin with, stroking his thumb lightly over Dean’s wrist in a soothing gesture. “I’m sorry, did I--”

“No.” Dean shook his head, tongue darting out to lick over his lips. “No, it’s--” He looked down at where Castiel’s hands were still closed over his wrists. “It’s good. It’s really good.”

Understanding dawned on Castiel as he watched Dean’s chest rise and fall with the rapid beat of his heart. “Like this?” he murmured, tightening his grip. Dean nodded wordlessly, eyes enormous and fixed on Castiel’s with desperate desire. 

“Or maybe--” Castiel had to take a deep breath just to control the surge of lust he felt at the very idea-- “above your head?”

“Christ,” Dean muttered. “Yeah, Cas, do it. Please.”

Castiel unfolded his hands, rubbing lightly over Dean’s wrist with his thumb. “You know I prefer direct communication,” he said. “I think you’ll find me amenable to most things, Dean, if you ask them of me.”

Dean let out a strangled laugh and raised his arms above his head, elongating the lines of his body. His arousal was evident through the thin material of his boxers, and it stirred something deep within Castiel, seeing him spread out across his bed. “Like this,” Dean said. “I can stay this way, or if you have something...” He trailed off, flushing.

“You want me to tie you up?” Castiel murmured. “Oh, Dean.” He leaned down to kiss him, briefly but passionately. “What a marvel you are.”

Castiel was no stranger to creativity when it came to bedroom play, but hearing Dean ask for what he wanted set him alight. Rummaging in the nightstand, he found several lengths of soft fabric and held them up for Dean’s inspection.

At Dean’s nod, he gently tied his wrists together, checking to ensure the binding wasn’t too tight, then bound his joined wrists to the carved ends of the headboard, glancing down for confirmation from Dean at every step. 

“You’re alright?” he said, cupping Dean’s cheek in a careful hand. “You’ll tell me if the strain becomes too great?”

“I’ll tell you,” Dean replied, turning his face to press a kiss to Castiel’s palm. “I promise.”

“Very well.” Dropping his gaze, Castiel let his eyes wander over the wide expanse of Dean’s bare skin. “And now what to do with you--”

He heard Dean’s sharp inhale as he lightly raked his fingers down the centre of his chest, then followed their path with his lips. “Cas,” Dean whined. “You’re still dressed.”

“Indeed.” Castiel raised his head and gave him a slow, sly smile. “Let us remedy that.”

He slid backwards off the bed and stood in front of it, looking down at Dean. A flicker of confusion crossed Dean’s features until Castiel raised his hands and began slowly unbuttoning his shirt. With another quick inhale, understanding dawned in Dean’s eyes, and he bit down on his lower lip as he devoured Castiel with his eyes.

Castiel didn’t hurry the process, slipping his shirt slowly from his shoulders and letting it fall to the ground before toying with his belt. He pulled it through the loops, the slight snick the only sound other than Dean’s rough breathing. He had never been particularly vain about his appearance, but in his human life his body had been strong and well-honed from farm work, and it had remained so in the four hundred years since. Judging by the heat in Dean’s gaze, he found it more than satisfactory. 

He slid his boxers down one hip, then pulled them back into place, enjoying the muffled oath that Dean let out in response. He was shifting restlessly on the bed, arms held in place but the rest of him free to convey his anticipation with the movements of his body. Taking pity on him, Castiel crawled back onto the bed and straddled him once more, the thin fabric of their underwear the only thing separating them. 

Leaning down to kiss him, Castiel lowered his hips so their lower bodies were in direct contact, moaning at the sensation. Dean’s erection was hard and insistent, and Castiel rocked his hips slightly to bring them both some relief.

He hadn’t really thought past this, but having Dean beneath him, pliant and trusting, provided him with a wild array of dazzling possibilities. He wasn’t the only one involved here, though.

“Tell me what you want,” he said softly, trailing kisses down the side of Dean’s neck. “I told you before, Dean, I want to bring you pleasure.”

Dean’s eyes were bright with reflected candlelight. “God, just--” He bucked his hips upwards, straining. “Just give me something--”

“Do you trust me?” Castiel asked him, looking down into his face.

And Dean shivered and said, “Yes,” without a trace of hesitation. 

Pressing another firm kiss to his lips, Castiel reached across the bed and into the nightstand beside them. Dean’s eyes followed his movements, curious, and he let out a small sound as he saw Castiel close his hand around a tube of lubricant. Dean immediately shifted on the bed, legs opening, but Castiel smiled down at him and shook his head. “Not tonight.”

In one quick movement, he removed his boxers and tossed them aside, then reached between his own legs with a lubed finger.

“Fuck.” Dean’s eyes were wide as he watched Castiel work himself open, and his hands clenched in their bindings like they were itching to be there inside him as well. “God, you’re so fucking hot.”

“Do you need me to untie you?” Castiel checked, pausing for a moment.

“God no,” Dean answered swiftly. “Keep going. Just like this.”

Bolstered by Dean’s reaction, Castiel tipped his head back as he slid another finger inside himself, shuddering at the sensation. It had been some time since he had done this, and he had almost forgotten the sharp intensity of it, like lightning on a summer day. It was always pleasurable having someone else do this, but there was a particular enjoyment to be felt in the way Dean’s eyes were locked on the place where Castiel’s fingers disappeared inside his body, in the way that they were hardly touching aside from where Castiel’s thighs hugged Dean’s. 

Even the sweetest anticipation could eventually become frustrating, though. “Come on,” Dean murmured, shifting again. “Cas, please--”

“Shh,” Castiel said, pulling down Dean’s boxers with his free hand. “I’m physically incapable of catching or carrying human diseases, Dean, but if you’d prefer--”

“No.” Dean shook his head, lifting his hips to assist Castiel. “Wanna feel you.”

Castiel’s composure cracked at the desire in his voice, and he leaned down to swallow any more words from Dean’s mouth as he shifted forward and slowly sank down onto Dean’s cock.

His eyes slipped closed as a loud groan spilled from Dean’s mouth and he bucked upward, sealing them together. Dean was so warm, filling him entirely and stretching him in the most satisfying way. After a moment, Castiel opened his eyes again and met Dean’s, blown wide with lust.

Then he began to move.

Muscles worked unconsciously in a rhythm he remembered, rising and falling as Dean moved to meet him despite his limited mobility. He could see the desire to touch in Dean’s eyes, only serving to intensify the experience. Castiel braced himself on Dean’s thighs and quickened his movements, chasing their combined pleasure towards its peak.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice was a mere whisper, but filled with urgency. “Cas, please--” He groaned again as Castiel took him in fully, then raised himself up once more.

“I know,” Castiel said. “You want to touch me, don’t you, Dean?”

“God, yes.”

“But you can’t.” Castiel shook his head and swivelled his hips slightly, and they both moaned at how good it felt. “Would you like me to touch myself, then? Show you how I think you would touch me, if you could?”

“Yes,” Dean repeated, louder this time. “Show me, Cas.”

Freeing one hand required him to slow his movements again in order to keep his balance, but Castiel didn’t mind. He wrapped one hand loosely around his cock as he continued to rock above Dean, shallower movements that still brought indescribable pleasure. Combined with the feeling of his own hand stroking his cock and the intensity with which Dean was staring at him, it wouldn’t take Castiel much longer to reach his peak. 

“Will you let go for me, Dean? You’ve given me so much already. Your trust, your surrender.” He barely even knew what he was saying, but it seemed to be working, Dean’s hips bucking restlessly beneath him. “Let me feel you surrender fully.”

The lengths of fabric binding Dean to the headboard pulled taut as he strained against them, Castiel’s name spilling from his lips as he came. Castiel felt every tremor of Dean’s orgasm, the hot liquid spill inside him, and with a few more rapid movements of his hand, followed him over the edge.

Still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm, Castiel rolled off Dean and immediately began unbinding his wrists, pressing light kisses down his arms as he did. “You were incredible,” he said, smoothing Dean’s hair away from his damp forehead. “Dean, that was--” He shook his head, something too enormous to be named shifting deep within himself.

“It was,” Dean agreed, turning his head to the side to smile at him. His face was relaxed and open, his limbs loose in the afterglow. “Mmmn. Gonna be dreaming about that for years.”

Castiel leaned down to kiss him, then swung himself out of the bed to find a cloth in the adjoining bathroom and tidy them both up before sliding back under the sheets. He curled himself around Dean, who settled back against him with a happy little sigh. Castiel nuzzled into the back of his neck, one hand tracing idle patterns on his torso. A reassuring touch was important after such activities, mild as they were compared to some others Castiel had engaged in. 

“Hey, Cas?” Dean’s voice was soft, thick with approaching sleep.

“Yes?”

Dean twisted in his arms, the candles flickering over his face. Castiel couldn’t help himself-- he reached out and traced the gorgeous line of Dean’s cheekbone with one fingertip, just to see him smile. “I know you’d normally be awake at this time, but--”

He didn’t even have to finish the sentence. It was there in his eyes, in the way he pressed himself so close along Castiel’s body. It had been a tumultuous evening for the two of them, and it was natural that simple human-- or not so human-- contact would be a balm to him now.

“Yes,” Castiel said again. “Yes, I’ll stay.”


	7. Chapter 7

By the time Dean left the bakery on Thursday afternoon, he was exhausted. He would never admit it, and especially not to Castiel, but this schedule was starting to take a toll on him. Normally, he had things arranged so he got enough sleep, but the extra late nights were beginning to show in the dark circles under his eyes and the sluggishness of his movements.

If they got through this thing with the vampires and still wanted to keep hooking up, he and Castiel would have to figure out a better arrangement.

Glancing down at his phone, Dean sighed as he remembered there would be no texts from Castiel. Because he didn’t own a cell phone. Maybe Dean could convince him that it was time, that the situation called for an easier way for them to keep in touch. He had a feeling Castiel’s texts would be hilarious, and God knew they could use some laughs right about now.

He tossed his phone into the car and slid into the driver’s seat, drumming his hands on the wheel. A nap sounded nice, but part of Dean didn’t really want to go home to his too-quiet apartment. Sam and Charlie would be at work, he didn’t feel like going to the Roadhouse when he wasn’t working--

Without even realizing it, he had started driving towards his childhood home. His mom would be back from her book club by now, and she could always be counted on to share a cup of coffee and lend a willing ear. 

Ten minutes later, he knocked quickly on the door before letting himself in. “Mom?” he called out. “You home?”

Mary came out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Dean?” she said. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Yeah.” Dean walked over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Just thought I’d drop by. How was your book club?”

“It was great.” Mary led him back to the kitchen, and Dean immediately pulled the coffee down from the cupboard and started the machine. “We were discussing a really thoughtful post-apocalypse novel. You would like it, actually. It’s on the shelf if you want to borrow it.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Dean leaned back against the counter, watching as his mom rinsed out her favourite mug, humming to herself. “Mom?”

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“After Dad left-- was there never anyone else?” 

Mary turned to him, eyes wide. “Dean, what in the world--”

He held up his hands, wincing. “Sorry. That was, uh, really blunt.” He shrugged, trying to frame his thoughts in a way that would make more sense. “I just-- I was looking at you now, and thinking how awesome you are. I mean, Dad left, you raised me and Sam on your own, successfully managed the family business, and now you’re strong and independent and hosting family dinner and going to book clubs, but--”

“But I’m alone,” Mary finished quietly. “Oh, Dean.”

She put the mug down and gestured to Dean to have a seat, the coffee maker gurgling loudly in the silence that fell. “I did try dating, for a while,” she said after a moment. 

Dean blinked at her. “Really? When?”

Her smile was wry. “After you and Sam moved out. I thought, hell, I’ve got this big house, it’s quiet without my boys, and the world is full of people who have loved a second, third, even fourth time. Why not me?”

“What happened?” Dean asked gently.

“Nothing.” Mary lifted her hands and shrugged. “Nothing bad, nothing good. I met plenty of men--” she smiled, then-- “and a few women, and they were wonderful, for the most part, but no one ever gave me that spark, you know?”

“Yeah. I know.” Dean cleared his throat, scrambling to process what he had just learned. He wasn’t judging, of course, but it wasn’t every day you heard your mother admit to a more open sexuality than you’d been aware of. “But you’re happy now, right?”

“Of course I am.” Mary frowned at him, tilting her head to the side. “Dean, where is all this coming from?”

He got up and poured the coffee, using those minutes to come up with an answer. “I’ve been happy being single too,” he said without turning around. “But it took me a long time to get to that place, after--”

“After Benny,” his mom finished, nodding. “And now you’re panicking about losing yourself in another relationship, especially one with another vampire.”

He turned back around, shaking his head. “Can’t fool you for a minute, can I?”

“Of course not.” Mary gestured to him to pass over her coffee. “I’m your mother.”

Dean laughed as he sat back down, warming his hands on his own mug. “Yeah. Well. You hit the nail right on the head.” He took a sip, letting the coffee linger on his tongue. “It was supposed to be simple, no strings attached...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I should be too old for this shit, shouldn’t I?”

“No,” Mary said firmly. “Dean, honey, let me tell you something I’ve learned. Love isn’t always going to feel the same way. Sometimes it’s that lightning bolt, sometimes it’s like climbing up a long, gentle hill. Your father--” She broke off, looking away. “I fell in love with him so quickly. But he wasn’t the first person I ever loved, and it was completely different. Neither of those worked out, obviously.” She looked back at Dean and smiled. “But that doesn’t mean either of them was any less true for it.”

“Who said anything about love?” Dean protested weakly. 

He wanted to ask, about that first person, about the careful language she had used. But she hadn’t finished yet. “And you’re not too old for any of this,” she said, ignoring his question. “Don’t ever think that. I am happy with my life, I am content, but I’m open to the possibility of that feeling coming along again, whether it’s now or in five or ten years.”

Her smile turned knowing. “Dean, I know you like to think you’re immune to feelings, that you lost faith in love after your dad left and only lost it further after Benny. But if there’s a chance for something between you and this Castiel, don’t sabotage it before it even begins. You’ll end up regretting it.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he said softly. He took another sip of his coffee, then gave her a considering look over the edge of the mug. “So. This first person you ever loved--”

“Nope,” Mary said cheerfully. “A woman needs some secrets, even from her kids.”

“That’s fair.” Dean reached out and laid his hand over hers. “Thanks for sharing a few of them, though.”

She squeezed his hand, her grip surprisingly strong. “Of course. You feeling any better?”

“Yeah.” Dean gave her a small smile. “Yeah, I think I am.”

They moved back to lighter subjects, and Dean did end up going to get the book from the shelf after Mary told him more about it. He was just pulling his jacket on when his phone beeped at him with an incoming call. “It’s Sam,” he said, holding it up for Mary to see.

“Say hello for me,” she instructed with a smile. 

“Hey, Sammy.”

“Dean.” His brother’s voice was low, urgent, and Dean immediately tensed at the sound of it. “Can you get to the station?”

He was already pulling on his boots. “I’m at Mom’s. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Okay.” With that, Sam ended the call. 

Dean swore under his breath and gave his mother an apologetic glance. “Sorry to chat and run, but--”

“Go,” she said, giving him a gentle push towards the door. “Be safe.”

“Love you,” he replied swiftly, and then he was out the door.

He did his best not to speed towards the police station, only going slightly over the limit. Fortunately, there was a spot open in the lot, and he was inside in just over ten minutes, nodding to Nancy as he strode quickly past the front desk. 

Sam’s office door was open, Jody and Alicia clustered around it. They looked up at his entrance and gave him tight nods, stepping back slightly so Sam could see him. “What is it?” Dean asked, heart pounding in his chest. “Did you find Gadreel?”

“He didn’t. But someone did.” Ruby’s voice came from behind Dean, and he turned to see her in the doorway, looking far too pleased with herself. “One of my demons got word he’d been seen going into an old warehouse on the east side. We checked it out, and you can’t see anything from the outside but it looks like exactly the sort of place someone shady would hide out.”

“Are we going in?” Dean asked, turning back to his brother.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “We? Dean, you’re a civilian.”

“Fuck that,” Dean said swiftly. “Come on, Sam.”

Jody cleared her throat, giving Dean a stern look. “I can’t allow you to come with us, Dean. You’re not trained, or properly armed, or qualified in any way.”

Clenching his jaw, Dean said, “Then why the hell did you call me here, Sam?”

His brother pulled off his glasses and swept his hair off his face, shaking his head. “I thought you’d want to know. But you can’t come with us, Dean. I thought that would have been obvious.” He threw a quick look over at Ruby, and Dean frowned, trying to follow. “I’ll let you know what happens.”

He stood and pushed past Dean, headed for the door. Jody patted his shoulder but didn’t say anything more, and Alicia made a sympathetic face as she trailed the other two officers out of the office.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, mind racing. He could try to follow them, but they wouldn’t be that easy to fool. He threw a quick glance towards the door, checking that they were gone, and started rifling through the papers on Sam’s desk, hoping he’d have jotted the address down somewhere.

“Dean.” He’d almost forgotten Ruby was there. He turned to look at her, and she rolled her eyes. “Are we going, or what?”

He frowned at her, a retort springing to his lips, and then it clicked. “You know where they’re going. Of course you do. The information came through you.”

“Good work, Sherlock.” She gestured impatiently at the door. “Come on. They’ve already got a head start on us. We’ll take a different route and hopefully we won’t be too far behind.”

It was proof of his investment in this case that he didn’t even argue about being stuck in a car alone with Ruby. He nodded sharply and strode off for the parking lot, leaving Nancy and a few other staff members staring in their wake. 

“Where to?” he asked as Ruby slid into the passenger seat.

“1042 Sunrise Drive,” she answered, resting her booted feet against the dashboard. Dean glared at her, but she just stared back, not moving. He bit down his protests and started the engine, pretending he couldn’t see her satisfied smile out of the corner of his eye.

“Why are you coming along, anyway?” he asked a few minutes later. “You could have just told me the address like Sam clearly wanted you to.” He’d figured out that look, eventually. Sam knew he couldn’t say anything in front of his fellow officers, but had been signalling to Dean that there was another way. Good old Sammy.

Ruby was silent for so long Dean thought she’d just elected to ignore the question. “I don’t like any of this,” she said eventually. She was looking out the window, not at Dean. “Most of the time, I’m fine with what Sam does. Proud of him, even. There’s something that tickles me about a paranormal cop dating a demon.” She turned to face him, then, and the look on her face hit Dean like a punch to the gut. “But this? This scares me. He’s so--” she made a helpless gesture-- “so human. So vulnerable. I can’t stop him from doing his job, and I don’t want to, but there’s no way I’m letting him walk into this without me.”

Dean swallowed roughly, eyes on the road. He’d always known Ruby genuinely cared about Sam-- she’d never have stuck around this long otherwise. But he’d never heard her so sincere, her rough edges smoothed away with her worry. “You look out for him, then,” he said quietly. “I trust you to do that.”

The surprise was clear in her eyes, but she just nodded. “Left up here,” she said, and that was that.

They couldn’t see the patrol cars from their side of the building, but that was to be expected. Sam and the others had probably parked a few blocks away, so after a slow tour of the surrounding streets, Dean did the same. He didn’t have any weapons on him, but he was quick and strong from years of lifting enormous bags of flour at the bakery. Besides, he had Ruby with him, and she was currently sliding a very scary looking knife out of her waistband. 

“Come on,” she said, grinning. “My guys told me there’s an entrance on the north side. Let’s go.”

He followed quietly after her. The door was exactly where she said it would be, and the chain across it was already hanging loose. Sam and the others had beat them here, like they’d expected. “Careful,” he said under his breath. “Don’t want them to shoot us by mistake.”

Ruby nodded, slipping inside without a sound. Dean threw one last look at the open concrete lot around the building, then entered the dark warehouse. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but slowly, he began to make out mattresses scattered on the floor, a bare table, and towering shelving units as far as he could see.

“What a dump,” Ruby muttered. She started to say something else, but Dean held up a hand to stop her, peering ahead into the gloom. He thought he heard--

Something collided with his back and he let out a pained grunt. Twisting quickly, he caught a glimpse of long blonde hair before the figure hurled itself at Ruby. With impressive ease, Ruby tossed their attacker aside, then grabbed them by their hair and held her knife up in front of them.

“Wait,” Dean said sharply. He stepped closer, wincing, and took a better look at the struggling figure in Ruby’s grasp. “Christ. It’s just a kid.”

“Let me go,” the girl snarled.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Ruby shook her slightly, but lowered the knife. “You should probably go find Sam,” she said to Dean.

“No need.” He shook his head as a beam of light swept towards them and the sound of running footsteps became audible. “They’re already here.”

“What in the hell--” Jody swore as she reached them, hand automatically flying to the gun at her hip. “Dean, we told you you couldn’t be here--”

“We can yell at him later, Officer Mills,” Sam interrupted. His attention was fixed on the blonde, still trying to free herself from Ruby’s grip. He moved closer, hands held out in front of himself to show he was unarmed. “Hey,” he said, lowering his voice. “My name is Sam. Want to tell me what you’re doing here?”

“Fuck off,” the girl snarled. She looked up, her hair falling away from her face, and Dean swore under his breath. She couldn’t be more than nineteen. “Let me go.”

“How about this: tell me your name, and what you’re doing here, and then we can talk about letting you go.” 

There was a stream of curses, and then-- “My name is Claire Novak. I got jumped outside a club on Main two nights ago, woke up in this place with what felt like the world’s worst hangover and a sudden allergy to sunlight.” She bared her teeth at them, their sharpened points visible even in the low light. “If I promise not to bite any of you, will you _please_ let me go?”

Sam and Jody exchanged wordless glances, then Sam nodded at Ruby. She sighed and loosened her grip, but kept herself carefully angled between Claire and the exit. 

“Where is everyone else?” Jody asked, voice softer than Dean was used to hearing from her. 

“They took off.” Claire shook her head, hunching over. “Last night, almost morning. That’s how I got free, when they were moving us.”

“They?” Sam repeated sharply. He dug out his phone and showed the screen to Claire. Dean knew it would be displaying Gadreel’s picture. “Was this one of the others you saw here?”

“Oh, yeah.” She grimaced, looking down at the screen with rage in her eyes. “He’s the one who jumped me.” Her voice quieted, and for a moment, she looked heartbreakingly young. “Turned me.”

Jody made a disgusted noise and stepped towards her, but Claire’s head snapped sharply up and she held out her hands to ward her off. “I told you what you wanted to know,” she said. “Now are you going to let me go, or what? Last I heard, being a vampire wasn’t a crime.”

“Sorry,” Sam replied, and he sounded like he genuinely meant it. “We still have a few more questions.”

“How did the others know to leave?” Alicia spoke up for the first time, frowning. 

Claire threw her an unreadable look, but visibly softened. Maybe it was because Alicia was only a few years older than she was. “I don’t know,” she said. “Gadreel just said they’d been discovered, that it wasn’t safe here anymore.”

“Was he the one in charge?” Dean asked. Jody threw him a reproving look, but he ignored it. “Was there someone here who gave him orders?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “I never saw him. He talked to someone on the phone, somebody with a weird-ass name. I never caught it.”

“That’s fine,” Sam said soothingly. “This is all extremely helpful, Claire. Now why don’t we go back to the station, you can get cleaned up, answer a few more questions, and then we’ll take you home.”

She shook her head, wiping the back of her hand across her face. “I don’t have a home,” she said bitterly. “I was in a group home, but I got kicked out. The friends I was staying with moved town, and I wasn’t invited along for the ride.” She laughed, but there was no humour in it. “Gadreel said they would be my family. What a fucking joke.”

There was a strange feeling under Dean’s skin, and it took a moment for him to recognize it for what it was: rage. This was so much more twisted than he had anticipated, preying on helpless kids and abandoning them at the first sign of trouble. 

“You can come home with me, then.” There was an undercurrent of the same rage Dean was feeling in Jody’s voice. “We’re not letting you go back out here alone, Claire. They might be looking for you.”

Claire didn’t look too enthused at the idea. Alicia smiled, then stepped forward to lay a gentle hand on her arm. Claire flinched, but didn’t move away. “Or you could stay with me,” Alicia offered. “Take it from someone who’s had to share a cabin with her on a retreat: Jody snores.”

A brief smile lit up Claire’s face, but she still shook her head. “Sorry, but I don’t exactly trust cops,” she said. “History.”

Sam glanced over at Ruby, who immediately backed away, shaking her head. “Oh, no,” she said. “Kid just got loose from vampires and now you want to send her to the demons?” At Claire’s startled look, she let her eyes flash black. “Yeah. Surprise.”

Dean was already speaking before he was aware he’d made a decision. “I’ll take her to Castiel,” he said. “A newly turned vampire probably isn’t someone any of us are equipped to handle.” He glanced at Claire, noting the flicker of interest in her eyes. “I know you probably don’t trust vampires very much right now either, but he’s a good guy, I promise. He’ll look out for you.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Fine,” she said with a sigh. “But only because I’m starving.”

By the time they pulled up outside the old church, it was almost fully dark. Dean had waited around the station while Sam and Jody finished questioning Claire, then driven her over here in sullen silence. She slid out of the car now, looking up at the church with something between mockery and apprehension in her eyes.

“I know,” Dean said, nodding. “It’s a bit much, right?”

“You said this guy is your friend?” She shook her head, grimacing. “Great first impression.”

“Come on.” Dean cupped her elbow and led her across the street. He knocked on the heavy door, keeping Claire close. He wouldn’t put it past her to try to bolt.

“Dean.” Castiel opened the door with a smile, but it slowly slid off his face as he took in Claire standing beside him. “What’s-- what’s going on?”

“Let’s get inside first.” Dean cast a quick look over his shoulder and hustled Claire into the church, shutting the door firmly behind them. 

When he looked back, Claire was standing frozen in the entryway, staring at Castiel. All the hostility had drained from her expression, and she just looked young and scared. “Claire?” he said, stepping closer. 

She didn’t even look at him. “What the hell is this,” she said, still staring at Castiel. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Castiel frowned, casting a confused look at Dean. “I don’t--”

She whirled around, the hurt in her eyes piercing Dean like a knife to the gut. “What do you think you’re playing at?”

“Claire, I don’t understand--” he said, trying to put the pieces together and falling miserably short. A horrible thought occurred to him, and he swallowed nervously. “Did Cas-- was Cas there? At the warehouse?”

Castiel made a surprised noise, but it was lost in the sound of Claire’s bitter laughter. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “No.” She took a deep breath, eyes darting back to Castiel. “He just happens to look _exactly_ like my dead dad, alright? So forgive me for being a little bit surprised.”

Dean drew in a startled breath as Castiel froze, going still in the way that never failed to remind Dean he wasn’t human. “Your father,” he repeated slowly. “I’m not-- I couldn’t be.”

“No.” Dean shook his head. There was no way the math could add up. But-- “Claire, what was your dad’s name?”

She closed her eyes. “Jimmy Novak.”

Castiel let out a pained gasp that had Dean immediately crossing the room to lay a hand on his arm. “Hey,” he said, leaning in close. “Hey. Talk to me.”

“Novak,” Castiel murmured. “My family--”

“Oh, fuck.” Dean stepped closer, pressing himself along Castiel’s side. The odds were incredibly slim, but it wasn’t impossible. “Well. Claire, meet your great-great-great-- something.”

A flurry of emotions passed over her face. “We’re related?”

Gently, Castiel extricated himself from Dean’s hold and crossed over to Claire. There was a look on his face Dean had never seen before, one that made his heart turn over in his chest. “I believe so,” he said quietly. “When I was human, my name was Castiel Novak. I never had children, but my brothers did, and--” He broke off, eyes wide with wonder as he looked at Claire. “It’s a miracle.”

Claire, unfortunately, didn’t look quite as enthusiastic. She took a step backwards, hugging her arms to her chest. “Yeah. Sure. A miracle that I got turned into a vampire and hey, guess what, some distant relative of mine is one too!”

Castiel frowned, hurt clearly etched on his features. Dean hated seeing him so distressed, but he could understand where Claire was coming from as well. Her entire world had been turned upside down over the past few days, she was entitled to a few meltdowns. 

“Okay,” he said, stepping between them. “Let’s just-- settle down.” He turned to Castiel. “Cas, Claire hasn’t eaten. Can you--”

“Of course.” Castiel turned sharply on his heel, heading for the kitchen. Claire watched him go with a curious mixture of resentment and longing on her face. Dean sighed, then guided her towards one of the armchairs scattered around the room. “You, sit. Cas will get you something to drink, and then we can just-- go from there.”

She didn’t argue, much to his surprise, just sat tense and watchful until Castiel returned with a bottle of blood in hand. He passed it to her, unusually deferential, and then sat beside Dean on the couch across from her as she drank it. 

“What happened to her?” Castiel whispered, eyes still on her. “Where did you--”

In all the confusion, Dean had completely forgotten that Castiel had no idea what he’d been up to today. “Right.” He bit his lip. “So. Ruby got a tip about where Gadreel had been hanging out. Sam and his crew went in, Ruby and I followed them.”

Castiel sat up immediately, glaring. “Dean, that was an incredibly reckless thing to do.”

“I know.” Dean shrugged. “But we were too late anyway. They’d cleared out the night before. Claire got free when they were leaving.” 

Struck by a sudden thought, he turned to look at her. “Claire? Why were you still there?”

She looked up briefly, and Dean was pleased to note how much better she looked. More energetic, more aware. “Where else was I supposed to go?” she said with a shrug.

“They should not have left you alone.” Castiel’s voice was tight with barely-restrained anger. Dean could feel it radiating off him. “A maker has responsibilities to feed and guide the newly-turned.”

Claire snorted with laughter. “Yeah, I don’t think these guys were exactly playing by the rules.”

“I am sorry they did this to you.” Castiel clasped his hands in his lap and looked at her, pleading. “You can stay here, of course. We can get you registered at the blood bank immediately, and I can keep you safe from Gadreel and his companions.”

It was exactly what Dean had hoped for, but Claire was already shaking her head, her mouth a tight line. “Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but--” she gestured at the room around them, vague-- “it’s all a bit much.”

“I can redecorate,” Castiel said immediately, and Dean’s chest lurched again.

Claire’s smile was sad, a bit strained. “Not that. Just-- you, and my dad, and this--” She looked down at the bottle in her hand, her lip twisting.

Dean let out a deep breath, squeezing Castiel’s knee before crossing the room to crouch in front of Claire. “Hey,” he said softly. “I get it. I’m sorry about all of this.” He glanced back at Castiel, who was watching them with an unreadable expression on his face. “How about I take you back to stay with some other friends of mine? They’re about your age, good kids.” He offered his best grin. “And they live above my bakery, so it always smells amazing in there.”

Claire considered it for a moment, her eyes wary. “You sure they’re going to be okay with you inviting a vampire to come crash at their place?” 

Dean didn’t even bat an eye. “I am sure. Like I said, they’re good kids. Kaia’s a dreamwalker, and Krissy--” He broke off, laughing. “Well, she’s human, but she’s got the same brand of snark as you do. I think you’ll fit in just fine.”

Claire bit her lip, then nodded. “Okay. But if one of them turns out to be my long-lost cousin or something, I’m out.”

“Deal.” Dean stuck out his hand, and after a tense pause, Claire shook it, rolling her eyes as she did. “You’re a dork,” she informed him.

He just shrugged. “Can’t argue that.”

Castiel cleared his throat, catching their attention. “I understand, of course.” He paused, then said, “However, if there is anything you need, anything at all--”

He was trying so hard. Dean’s heart broke for him, and he looked at Claire, hoping she would recognize just how much this was costing Castiel.

Judging by the shaky smile she offered, she did. “I could use a shower.”

Castiel immediately got to his feet. “Of course. The bathroom is downstairs, I’ll get you some towels--”

His voice faded as he led Claire down the stairs. She threw one look back over her shoulder as she followed, shaking her head. Dean gave her a cheerful wave and picked up her empty bottle, bringing it to the kitchen to rinse out. 

Settling back against the counter, Dean let out a slow breath. God, what a day. He glanced down at his phone, shaking his head. Somehow, it was still only ten o’clock. 

He looked up at the soft sound of Castiel’s footsteps. “Hey,” he said. “Is she--”

Before he could finish, Castiel’s lips were on his, pressing urgently against him, but not with lust. Dean blinked, startled, then wrapped his arms around Castiel and kissed him back. Castiel was trembling, he noted with surprise. Dean ran his hands down his back, soothing, and gentled his kisses, moving to press them across his cheeks, his forehead, then back to his lips.

After a moment, Castiel drew back, but kept his head tucked into Dean’s shoulder. “My apologies,” he said, words slightly muffled. “I’m just rather-- overwhelmed.”

“Yeah. I get that.” Dean tilted his head up and looked into his wide, impossibly blue eyes. “I’m sorry for springing this on you. I had no idea--”

Castiel shook his head. “It isn’t your fault. And I’m not angry at you. I’m--” He broke off, sighing. “Overwhelmed,” he said again. “It would have been shock enough, meeting a descendant of mine, were they merely human. But one who is also a vampire, and turned so young, against her will?” His hands flexed where they gripped tightly at Dean’s sides. “I will not let anything else happen to her, Dean. I will not.”

“Neither will I,” Dean told him firmly. “Claire will be safe there, I promise.”

“I’ll be watching over her regardless,” Castiel muttered darkly. 

Dean laughed and pressed another kiss to his forehead. “Of course you will.”

Castiel sighed and sagged against him again. Dean rested his cheek against his soft hair and continued to stroke his back, offering what comfort he could. It was strange, to think of a four-hundred year old vampire needing comfort. Castiel was so self-possessed, so sure of himself most of the time. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Dean told him. Useless words, really. Neither of them could know that. But Castiel let out a little sigh, placed a soft kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth, and straightened up, just in time for Claire to round the corner, damp hair in a braid over her shoulder and a wry, amused look on her face.

“So it’s like that,” she said.

Dean stared at her over Castiel’s shoulder. “Yep.”

After a moment, she shrugged. “Okay. I’m ready when you are.”

He didn’t really want to leave Castiel, but it was getting late, and he was weary to the bone. “I’ll call you later,” he said softly, cupping Castiel’s face in his hand. “As soon as I drop her off.”

Castiel nodded. He untangled himself from Dean’s embrace and crossed the room to Claire, extending one hand to her. “Please be safe, Claire,” he said. “And again, if there is ever anything I can do for you--”

“I know,” she interrupted, but she was smiling. “Just ask.” She took his hand and shook it firmly, then jerked her head towards the door. “I’ll give you guys a minute.”

“That was generous of her,” Castiel commented, watching as she walked over to the vestibule and waited there, facing away from them.

“I’ve been around kids like her before,” Dean said, smiling. “There’s a good heart under all that sarcasm and eyeliner. I can tell.”

“There’s a good heart here, as well.” Castiel placed a cool palm against Dean’s chest, gaze intense. “Dean, please don’t take any more risks like you did today. Not without me there to watch over you.”

Dean frowned, wondering why the words sounded so familiar. Maybe it was déjà vu-- no. It was eerily similar to what Ruby had said earlier, about Sam.

He had no idea what to with that.

“I can’t make that promise,” he said, reaching for Castiel’s hand. “There was no time to waste, Cas. You would have been asleep, we couldn’t wait for you.”

Castiel sighed and raised their joined hands to his lips. “Your bravery awes me as much as your recklessness dismays me,” he said, shaking his head. “Go. Call me when she’s safe.”

Dean closed his eyes for a minute, Castiel’s lips cool on the back of his hand, and then pulled away.

“Come on,” he said to Claire. “I’ll text Krissy and let her know we’re coming over.”

They both turned for one last look at Castiel, who lifted a hand in farewell, and then they were out the door.

Claire was quiet on the ride, and Dean didn’t want to press her. He had the radio on, but the volume was low, and about five minutes after they left, she finally spoke. “So. Dating a vampire.”

He wasn’t entirely surprised at her choice of topic. “Yup.”

“Is that like, a thing for you?”

He glanced sharply at her, scowling. “No.” Why did everyone assume he had some sort of fetish? He was about to snap at her, but then he caught the way she was looking at him. Not mocking, but worried.

Dean sighed, tightening his hands on the wheel. “You can still have a relatively normal life, Claire,” he said, softening his voice. “Okay, the hours suck, and the diet isn’t stellar, but other than that--” he shrugged-- “you can still have relationships. Still have friends, still have a job. Plenty of places are willing to work with the schedule. It isn’t going to be the life you thought you were going to have, but--”

“Yeah, well, I already wasn’t living the life I thought I would have,” she said bitterly. She toyed with the edge of her braid, staring fixedly out the window. “Just one more disappointment. I should be used to them by now.”

“Castiel won’t be a disappointment.” She glanced up at that, eyes flicking to meet his. “I’m not saying you need to move in there, or spend all your time with him. I’m just saying, give him a chance, okay?”

She looked out the window again, and it was a long time before she said, “Okay,” in a voice so quiet Dean barely heard her.

They pulled up outside the bakery. The store itself was dark, but light shone from the windows upstairs. Krissy had sent a string of emojis back in answer to his text, most of which he couldn’t figure out, but it looked like somebody was at home.

Sliding out of the car, he opened Claire’s door for her and gestured towards the bakery. “Let’s go meet your new roommates.”


	8. Chapter 8

The weekend passed quietly for Castiel. Dean kept in touch as often as he could, but he was busy with his jobs and with helping Claire settle in to her new situation. Castiel had offered his assistance, but Dean had gently turned him down, citing Claire’s need for some space from him right now.

He understood, of course, but it still hurt.

Going about his daily routines was strange in light of the threat looming over all of them. The blood bank was busy, but a nervous silence hung over the large room as Castiel waited in the long line. The nurse who helped him met his eyes without any of the warmth he was accustomed to finding here, and didn’t reply to his polite farewell as he thanked her for her assistance. There were police officers wearing the logo of the Paranormal Investigations department posted at all the entrances, watching the vampires with wary eyes. He wondered if Sam was one of them, but none of the officers bore any resemblance to Dean. Castiel nodded cordially at them, feeling their wary gaze on his back as he exited.

Once it reached full dark, he took to the streets. After Dean and Claire had left the other night, he had visited a small shop he knew of, run by a family of ghouls. With a few strategically raised eyebrows and careful negotiations, he had acquired a small vial of dead blood, which he now carried in a syringe in his pocket. 

If he met Gadreel or any of those working with him, they would not find Castiel unprepared. 

He patrolled a wide swathe of Lawrence, from his home to Dean’s apartment and then over to the bakery. He kept to the shadows as he gazed up at the bright windows, occasionally seeing a dark figure move past but unsure if it was Claire or one of her new roommates. No one came in or out of the building, though, which was reassuring. 

Castiel had never had the urge to have children, even as a human. He had doted on his nieces and nephews, but never wished for a child of his own. And then, as a vampire, the idea of turning another had greatly distressed him. It took a certain arrogance to become a maker, and while Castiel knew himself well enough to know he could be arrogant at times, it did not manifest in that way. 

But now-- he had a descendant of his own blood, not turned by him but his responsibility nevertheless. Every instinct in him screamed to keep her safe, to keep her near, and yet all he could do was lurk outside her window until the sun began to rise and he made his weary way home.

On Tuesday evening, he woke to the sound of his phone ringing. Stumbling blearily up the stairs, he snatched up the receiver and barked a quick, “Yes?” into it.

“Good evening, Castiel.”

He sat down heavily at the sound of Naomi’s voice. “Hello, Naomi.”

It had been over a week since he had last heard from her, though not without effort on his part. Voicing his frustration would do no good, he knew from experience. He could only hope she had called for a reason. 

“I do apologize for the lack of communication,” she continued, and Castiel almost dropped the phone in his surprise. Naomi never apologized. To do so would be to admit she had been wrong. “I’ve been travelling, staying off the grid as much as possible. It hasn’t been conducive to phone calls.”

“You’ve been--” Castiel shook his head. Naomi almost never left Seattle. If she had felt threatened enough to seek refuge elsewhere, they were in even bigger trouble than they had anticipated. “Who is it, Naomi? Who is it that has even you running scared?”

A pause. Castiel could imagine the look on Naomi’s face, the one she wore whenever he challenged her: a combination of pride and resignation, like she could barely believe one she had turned could be such an annoyance. 

“His name is Metatron,” she said eventually. “Or that’s what he’s calling himself, at least. He was plain Marv when he was turned, but I suppose he thought ‘Marv’ wasn’t grand enough for his purposes.”

Castiel frowned, twisting the phone cord around his wrist. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“You wouldn’t have,” she said bluntly. “He’s been a non-entity for years, holed up in the desert with nothing but books for company. He sought favour with me years ago, when I first came to this country, but even then I knew he could not be trusted. I politely declined an alliance, and have ignored him ever since.”

She paused again. “That, I now realize, was a mistake.”

“How do you know it’s him?” Castiel asked, still shaken by her admission of error. If she could be wrong once, she could be wrong again, and they needed to be certain of their enemy’s identity. 

Her sigh rang through the line, and Castiel could hear the weariness in it. “When you mentioned your troubles, I began running through a list of the major vampire powers across the country. As far as I could tell, they were all content in their own cities, no evidence of anyone looking to expand. So then I moved on to those smaller places, where some might be poised to grasp any power they could. It was at this time that Marv’s name resurfaced, and I remembered my immediate dislike of him.”

“So you sent someone to check on him.” It was the next logical step, and Castiel knew how Naomi operated. “Are they--”

“Hannah will be fine,” Naomi said, but there was an edge to her voice now. “She found Marv’s old hideout easily enough, but he had left guards there. They attacked her, but she managed to escape. She was poisoned with dead blood, just as Balthazar was, but only after she refused to join them.”

A sick feeling settled in Castiel’s stomach. “Join them in what, precisely?”

“In Marv’s grand plan to take control of Lawrence,” Naomi said. “They told her everything. How he wants to set himself up as a lord among our kind, how he’s spent years biding his time, waiting for the right city, the right moment in human-vampire relations. All to convince her it would succeed.” A note of pride entered her voice then. “Of course, Hannah wasn’t fooled for a second. It took her some time to make her way home to me, but she feared pursuit, which is why we’ve left Seattle for the time being.”

So it wasn’t Naomi herself who felt threatened, but she had left for Hannah’s sake. Castiel shook his head, baffled as ever by the way Naomi could take such care of her companions and yet stifle them at the same time. “Thank you,” he said eventually. “We’ve identified Marv’s primary associate, Gadreel, but we didn’t know who he was working for. Do you have a photograph of Marv?”

“Yes,” Naomi said. “I’ll send it to Balthazar, since I know you refuse to accept any new technology.” 

She was mocking him, clearly, but he honestly couldn’t tell if it was with affection or not. It didn’t matter. “What else do we need to know?”

Naomi hesitated before answering. “He had Balthazar attacked for a reason,” she finally said. “He’s too independent, too charismatic. Marv has studied Lawrence and its inhabitants very closely, Castiel. He knows Balthazar would never join him, and would be able to persuade others to resist him as well.”

It wasn’t exactly a surprise. “So you think he might attempt to strike again?”

“Most likely,” Naomi agreed. “And that isn’t all.”

“Yes?”

“He’ll be looking for you as well, Castiel.” She was speaking quickly now, urgent in a way Castiel had never heard her. “He knows you’re old, and well-established, and that you also disdain many of our ways. He won’t permit you to live unless you join him, and we both know that will never happen.”

So. The general threat had become specific to him. Castiel swallowed, eyes fixed on the vaulted ceiling. He did not wish to die, but nor did he wish to join this Marv in his desperate quest for power. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he said quietly. “I will be on my guard.”

“Please do.” Naomi paused, then said, “You know I only wish you well, Castiel.”

A lump rose in his throat, and he swallowed it down. “I do,” he said. They might not always agree on what form it would take, but he did not doubt that Naomi wanted the best for him. “Be safe, Naomi.”

“And you.”

There was a click, and the line went dead. Castiel hung up the phone, then sat back on the couch, hands clasped neatly in his lap. He was surprised at how unafraid he felt. Maybe it was just the relief of knowing, of being able to name their enemy. Or maybe it was shock preventing him from accepting that he was a target.

The phone rang again, and he snatched it up quickly, wondering what Naomi had forgotten to tell him. “Hello?”

“Cas.” It was Balthazar’s voice, amused. “Were you expecting a call?”

Castiel sank back against the cushions. “Somewhat. Not that I’m not pleased to hear from you, my friend.”

“Of course.” Balthazar laughed. “I just received a most intriguing message from your dear Naomi. I believe it was intended to be shared with you.”

The picture of Marv. Naomi was nothing if not efficient. “Yes. I just had an, ah, illuminating conversation with her.”

“Let’s meet up, shall we?” Balthazar suggested. “I find myself in need of a drink.”

“Very well.” It was Tuesday. Dean would be tending bar tonight. “At the Roadhouse?”

“A bit dingy for my tastes, but well-suited to this sort of intrigue, I suppose,” Balthazar replied. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

With a sigh, Castiel went to get dressed. 

He walked into the bar twenty minutes later, scanning for Balthazar in the crowd. He was surprised at how busy it was for a Tuesday evening, but a glance at the menu showed numerous drink specials that helped explain the volume. Pushing his way through crowds of exuberant college-aged youths-- Claire’s age, he realized with a pang of sorrow-- he found Balthazar at the bar, an open stool beside him.

“Hello,” he said, sliding onto it and picking up the glass of red wine Balthazar had thoughtfully procured for him. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Cas.” Balthazar’s face was unusually somber as he raised his glass to clink against Castiel’s. “So, I suppose it’s too much to hope that Naomi was sending me this picture in a vain attempt at matchmaking?”

It was an amusing enough thought that Castiel laughed despite his unease. “I’ll explain,” he said, “but I would prefer to do so only once.” He scanned the bar, looking for a familiar figure. “Ah, yes.”

Dean was down at the other end of the bar, depositing a tray of empty glasses by the sink. Castiel refused to do something as undignified as shouting or waving at him, so instead, he just watched the play of muscles in Dean’s back and shoulders as he moved the heavy tray, the way he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. 

Eventually, Dean turned and caught sight of Castiel. A breathtaking smile crossed his face, and he tossed his towel over one shoulder before making his way over to them. “Cas,” he said warmly. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

“It was a bit of a last-minute thing,” Castiel replied. “You remember Balthazar, of course.”

“How could I forget?” Dean nodded politely at Balthazar. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fully recovered, thank you.” Balthazar gave him a slow smile, shameless. “You’re looking well.”

Dean flushed, and Castiel rested a warning hand on Balthazar’s arm. “Stop it,” he murmured into his friend’s ear. “He can’t tell you’re teasing him.”

“You’re no fun,” Balthazar replied, pouting, but then cleared his throat and placed his phone on the surface of the bar between them. “I’m afraid we’re not just here for the attractive bartenders, though.”

Dean frowned at Castiel. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” It wasn’t entirely true, but it was close enough. “I spoke with Naomi earlier tonight.” He gave Dean and Balthazar a brief summary of the conversation, watching as both their faces darkened. “And then Naomi sent Balthazar a photo of this Marv,” he concluded. Taking his cue from Naomi, he refused to refer to him as Metatron, ridiculous name that it was.

Responding to his cue, Balthazar opened the image on his phone. Castiel stared down into the face of the vampire who had created all this uncertainty, startled at its ordinariness. There was nothing particularly charismatic, attractive, or even memorable about Marv’s features. A gleam of sly intelligence in his eyes, perhaps, but that was all. 

“Doesn’t look like much,” Dean commented. “She’s sure this is our guy?”

“I trust her,” Castiel said quietly. “She’s had dealings with him in the past, and she wouldn’t point us down the wrong path. Especially not after what happened to Hannah.”

Understanding dawned in Dean’s eyes. “She wants to see him pay for it.”

“Yes.” Castiel nodded grimly. “And so do I.”

Balthazar cleared his throat, glancing down at the picture on the screen. “I do find it difficult to be frightened of this face,” he said slowly, “but--”

He looked up at Castiel, and he didn’t need to finish his sentence. Castiel already knew. Heart heavy with sorrow, he shook his head. “You have to do what’s best for you, old friend.”

Dean looked between the two of them, obviously unable to follow their half-unspoken conversation. “Wait, what? What did I miss?”

“Balthazar is leaving,” Castiel said, not taking his eyes off his friend’s face. He saw the way Balthazar’s mouth tightened, but he made no effort to refute Castiel’s statement.

“You’re running away?” Dean turned to Balthazar, planting his hands on his hips. “You’re not even going to stay and fight?”

“Dean--” Castiel started, but Dean shook his head, eyes narrowed.

“No, Cas. I want to hear what he has to say for himself.”

Balthazar drew himself up stiffly. “Your pet is presumptuous, Castiel.”

“Bal,” Castiel said sharply. “Stop it, both of you.”

“I’m no one’s pet,” Dean snarled. “And yeah, maybe I am presumptuous. But you’re a coward.”

Castiel had to grab Balthazar’s arm to hold him back. Some of the other patrons were beginning to throw curious glances their way, so Dean jerked his head towards a small door off to the side of the bar. Tugging Balthazar along, Castiel followed him through it.

Unfortunately, the respective privacy meant that Dean and Balthazar were no longer holding back. Dean was only inches away from Balthazar, glaring at him as he said, “Yeah, that’s right. A coward. Running away when your friend--” he jabbed an accusatory finger towards Castiel-- “will be fighting for his life?”

“I don’t make Castiel’s choices for him,” Balthazar hissed, “nor does he make mine. As equals, we respect one another enough to understand that.”

“You saying I’m not his equal?” Dean shot back. “Nice to see that vampire snobbery hasn’t been totally eradicated.”

Castiel threw himself between them before someone ended up hurt. “Stop it,” he said again. He gently shoved Dean back, keeping a restraining arm against Balthazar’s chest. “Calm down.”

Balthazar raised his hands in surrender, but Dean was still breathing harshly, eyes stormy. Castiel glanced at Balthazar, a warning, and his friend took two steps back. 

“Dean,” Castiel said gently, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s alright. I’m not angry.”

“How can you not be?” Dean shook his head. “He’s just going to leave you here?”

“Actually, I was going to suggest Castiel should come with me,” Balthazar interjected. “Before you started flinging insults at me.”

Castiel turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. “I can’t,” he said. 

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“Both.” Castiel shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving.” Not leaving Claire. Not leaving Dean. Not leaving anyone else in this city. He knew why Balthazar was, though.

“It won’t be Paris all over again,” Balthazar said softly, confirming his suspicions. “I tried to keep my city safe once, and I failed. I cannot bear to fail again.”

Dean’s face was still set in harsh lines, but there was more confusion than anger in his eyes now. Castiel whispered, “Later,” to him, knowing Dean would want an explanation. He raised one eyebrow, and Dean nodded slowly. 

His hand falling away from Dean’s chest, Castiel turned back to Balthazar. “Go now,” he said. “Go quickly. Don’t tell me where. Just--” He faltered under the sadness in Balthazar’s eyes. “Be safe.”

“I will.” Balthazar reached out and gripped his face between his hands. “You always were the best of us, Castiel. I wish my admiration could be enough to make me follow your example.” Leaning forward, he kissed Castiel’s forehead, then stepped back. 

“I’m sorry for calling you a pet,” he said to Dean. “Look after him, will you?”

Dean nodded stiffly, but didn’t reply. Balthazar gave Castiel one last wry smile, then closed the door behind himself.

After a moment, Dean cleared his throat. “Maybe you should go with him.”

“What?” Castiel blinked at him. “Why would you--” He shook his head, taking a step towards him. “Dean, not five minutes ago you were calling Balthazar a coward for leaving. Now you think I should too?”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Dean said, mouth set in a stubborn line. “Look, I’ll pass Marv’s picture along to Sam. Let the police handle it. But in the meantime, you get out of town. Lie low somewhere safe.”

“That isn’t going to happen.”

“Damn it, Cas!” Dean whirled around, facing away from Castiel. His shoulders were set in tense lines, his head bowed. Castiel gave him a moment, then slipped up behind him, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and resting his head against his back. Dean stiffened in his grasp, then slowly relaxed.

“I’m not afraid,” Castiel said quietly. “Not for myself, at least.”

Turning in his arms, Dean shook his head. “If what Naomi said is true, you should be.”

Castiel still didn’t follow. Human logic, once again, baffled him. “I told you that I might be a target at least fifteen minutes ago. You’re only suggesting I flee now.”

Dean closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. “I know. Delayed reaction.” He opened his eyes again, so close to Castiel’s own. “But that was before Balthazar looked at you like it might be the last time he ever saw you. I was standing here, watching the two of you, and it hit me: I never want to look at you that way.”

Castiel sucked in a startled breath. He opened his mouth, but no words emerged. Dean smiled, a little sadly. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s too much, I know. This wasn’t what we agreed to. But--” he shrugged, looking away-- “it’s true.”

“I don’t want you to look at me that way either,” Castiel replied. “Dean, so much of the reason I’m staying-- it’s you.”

“Me?” Dean frowned. “I don’t--”

Castiel reached down and twined their fingers together, struck, as always, by the contrast in their body temperature. “You’ve never once made me feel ashamed of who-- of what-- I am,” he said quietly. “You’ve made me feel seen, and appreciated, as a whole, in a way that--” he squeezed Dean’s hand for emphasis-- “in a way that I haven’t felt in years.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with staying,” Dean said, eyes searching Castiel’s face.

It was difficult to put it into words, but Castiel knew he had to try. “I told you before, I’m accustomed to humans placing a certain value on my vampiric status.”

“Yeah.” Dean shook his head in disgust. “Gross.”

“But with you,” Castiel continued, “I feel no less a vampire, but more a person, if that makes sense.” Dean frowned, but nodded. “It’s as both a vampire and as a person that I feel I must stay. I have a responsibility to this city, which has been my home for many years. But I also have a responsibility to maintain the careful balance we’ve struck with humans over the years, the balance Marv is threatening to disrupt.” He shook his head, remembering his latest experience at the blood bank. “He is a disgrace in every possible way. Everything he’s done fills me with loathing and rage.”

Dean’s eyes softened. “You’re thinking about Claire.”

“Yes.” Castiel sighed. “Her, and however many others Marv turned in his quest for power. What will they do, if he takes power? Join him? I couldn’t blame them for it. That freshly turned, their hunger will drive them like nothing else. If he offers them comfort, stability, a steady supply of blood-- they will be his, and he knows it. But he won’t care for them, won’t see them as anything other than disposable.”

“I know.” Dean scowled, jaw tightening again. “They’re just kids. You should have seen Claire when she met Krissy and Kaia. She was so nervous, and hiding it behind all that hair and snark. But as soon as she relaxed, the three of them hit it off.” He lowered his voice like he was confiding a secret. “Between you and me, I think her and Kaia have got a bit of a thing for each other.”

“Good,” Castiel said. “That’s what I want for her. Happiness, and security. For all of them.”

“And for yourself?” Dean looked up at him from under lowered lashes. “What do you want for yourself, Cas?”

Sometimes, words failed. Castiel smiled, let go of Dean’s hands, and brought his own up to frame his face. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dean’s. Melting into his embrace, Dean moved them so his back was braced against the wall as Castiel deepened the kiss, starving for him. “You,” he whispered, scraping his teeth down the side of Dean’s neck and feeling him tremble in his arms. “You, you, you.”

They might have stayed there forever, kissing hungrily in that little room, had a loud knock not sounded at the door. “Dean,” an impatient voice called, “your break was over like, ten minutes ago.”

Dean huffed a laugh against Castiel’s chest. “Duty calls,” he murmured. “One minute, Jo!”

He pulled away and straightened his t-shirt, which had gotten rucked up around his side. “How do I look?”

Castiel drank in the sight of him, the mess of his hair and the creases in his shirt. The marks clearly visible on his neck. “Like you’ve just been ravished in a supply closet.”

Dean sighed and pulled him in for a last, lingering kiss. “Good thing this isn’t exactly a classy joint, then.”

“It’s a fine establishment,” Castiel informed him as Dean swung the door open. “Very attentive staff.”

The young blonde passing by raised an eyebrow at that, then shook her head at Dean.”Figures,” she muttered.

“Love you, Jo,” Dean said, giving her a bright grin. “I’m sorry. I really have to--”

“Go.” Castiel pushed him gently towards the bar. “I’ll wait here. I can drive you home when you’re done.”

Dean smiled at him, so much happiness and affection in his eyes that Castiel couldn’t help smiling back. “Just don’t scare off any of my customers again, okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel agreed, and settled onto a stool, planting his elbows on the bar. 

This was what he would fight for: this teeming mass of loud, unruly humanity. The decidedly not-human patrons among them, mingling with ease. Good cheer and good company, long after the setting of the sun. 

And one man, winking at him from behind the bar, whose smile shone even brighter than that sun.


	9. Chapter 9

The kitchen was a disaster. Bowls were overturned, dripping their contents onto the floor. Pans stacked perilously high teetered on the edge of tipping, dishtowels were flung over every surface, and there was a trail of chocolate chips leading from the cabinet to the oven. One of them crunched under Dean’s foot as he took a step forward, slowly shaking his head in dismay.

“What,” he said, “the hell happened here?”

Krissy’s face showed not even a hint of remorse. “We’re demonstrating.”

“Demonstrating what, exactly?” Dean reached out and righted the leaning tower of muffin tins. 

“How to make cupcakes,” Kaia answered. Her face was composed, but mischief sparkled in her eyes. “Claire doesn’t know how, and we figured if she was going to be living with us, she should lend a hand.”

“I see.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and turned to Claire, who was watching him warily from the other side of the kitchen. She was still having trouble adjusting to her new sleep schedule, but there were no windows in the kitchen that would let in the sun. “I’m guessing you weren’t the one who came up with this idea.”

Claire shrugged, but a smile hovered around the edges of her lips. “They’re pretty persuasive.”

Dean was well aware of that. He sighed, fighting to keep his own smile in check. “Whatever. Just clean up after yourselves, alright?”

“You bet, boss.” Krissy saluted him, leaving a smudge of yellow icing on her forehead. Kaia caught Dean’s eye and grinned, holding a finger to her lips, and he winked in response. It would be worth it to hear Krissy screech later. 

Tossing his apron into the laundry bin, he left the girls to their fun. “I thought he would yell more,” he heard Claire say as he walked away, but he didn’t turn around to correct her. She was still a bit skittish with him, and he’d decided it was best to act natural and let her adjust rather than forcing some kind of closeness. He’d gotten through to Krissy and Kaia that way, and she was making good progress with them. Hopefully he would be next.

It was only three o’clock, but Dean was exhausted. All he wanted to do was take a nap, but his apartment was in dire need of cleaning, and he had to pick up groceries on his way home, and Ellen had asked if he could swing by the Roadhouse to pick up something to bring to his mom--

He really should have grabbed something sweet on his way out. He had the feeling he was going to need it. 

By the time he got everything crossed off his to-do list, he wasn’t even tired anymore. He was running on adrenaline, pacing around his living room and glancing out the window every five seconds to check the position of the sun. Castiel wouldn’t be awake quite yet. Not for the first time, Dean cursed the fact that he didn’t own a cell phone. He was tense and horny and all he wanted was to send a string of filthy texts to his smoking hot vampire-- something. They were past the point of casual hookups, especially after that conversation in the supply closet, but he still wasn’t entirely sure where they stood.

If they made it to any sort of anniversary worth celebrating, Dean knew what he would be giving Cas as a gift.

Pulling out his own phone, battered but functional, he sent a very different kind of text to Sam. _Any news?_

It only took about thirty seconds for Sam to reply, which meant he was at his desk. _Nothing. We can’t find anything on this Marv guy. He’s hidden himself too well._

_Got the demons out looking?_

_Yeah. At this rate, they’re going to be asking for full-time pay and benefits._

Dean sighed. _We’ll find him. We have to._

Sam didn’t reply.

Looking out the window again, Dean could see the last streaks of sunlight painting the sky to the west. It would be dark soon. Finally. Smiling to himself, he headed to the bathroom for a quick but thorough shower, then changed into worn jeans and a plain t-shirt. If the evening went the way he planned, he wouldn’t be wearing them for long anyway.

He took his time on the drive across town. The lights were off in the bakery and in the apartment above it. The girls must have gone out for the evening. Hopefully Krissy had looked in a mirror before then and wiped the icing off her forehead. Dean laughed to himself at the image, then sent her a quick text when he stopped at a red light, asking her to check in when they got home. He hated to play over-protective with them, and she would mock him for it mercilessly, but she would do it. 

The streetlights were on by the time he pulled to a stop across from the church. Running a hand through his hair, Dean checked his reflection and grinned to himself before sliding out of the car. Knocking sharply on Castiel’s door, he shifted his weight from side to side as he waited for it to open.

“Dean?” It was clear Castiel had just woken up. His eyes were still bleary, and his hair was a complete disaster. He was also wearing nothing but what appeared to be silk boxers in a startling shade of crimson.

The breezy greeting Dean had planned died on his lips. Castiel looked like every one of his fantasies come to life, and it was more than a little bit overwhelming. Swallowing roughly, he managed a weak, “Hey.”

Castiel frowned at him, lifting a hand to cover a yawn. “I wasn’t-- my apologies. I only just woke up. Come in, please.”

The boxers clung enticingly to Castiel’s ass as he led Dean inside. Dean’s hands itched to reach out and see if they felt as smooth as they looked, but just because he was raring to go didn’t mean that Castiel was. He had just woken up, after all.

“Do you mind if I--” Castiel gestured to the kitchen. “Breakfast.”

“Oh.” Dean shook his head quickly. “No, yeah, go ahead.”

He sat on the nearest chaise, drumming his fingertips against his knee. “Sleep well?” he asked.

Castiel returned with a bottle of blood in hand, sinking gracefully into a chair across from Dean. “Not particularly,” he replied. “My mind is...unsettled, to say the least.”

“Fair enough.” Dean tried not to pay too much attention to the play of muscles in Castiel’s chest and shoulders as he settled back against the cushions and raised the bottle to drink. It was a wasted effort-- how could he possibly look anywhere else?

“And you?” Either Castiel was completely unaware of the effect he was having on Dean, or he was playing a very cruel game, acting so nonchalant while lounging around like one of those sexy spreads from a vampire calendar. “How was your day?”

“Long,” Dean answered, relaxing back against the arm of the chaise and letting his eyes fall closed. “I’m fucking wiped.”

He didn’t even hear Castiel move, but the next thing he knew, there was a long, cool body pressed against his. “I’m sorry,” Castiel murmured, nuzzling into the crook of Dean’s shoulder. “I know this has been taking a toll on you as well. And with me being nocturnal--”

“Yeah, it’s not ideal.” Dean opened his eyes again, meeting Castiel’s intense gaze. “But I gotta say, being greeted at the door in outfits like this--” he nodded down at the silk boxers-- “kinda makes up for it.”

“Oh?” A wicked gleam entered Castiel’s eyes. He shifted so that he was straddling Dean’s lap, hands running down his chest. Dean could feel the chill of them even through his shirt and he shivered, sitting up straight.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely. He let his own hands drift downwards, cupping Castiel’s ass through the silk. It felt just as luxurious as he had imagined, and Castiel arched into the touch, the gorgeous lines of his body stark in the exaggerated pose. “God, Cas, the things I want to do with you--”

“What things?” Castiel’s voice dropped lower, almost a purr. “Tell me.”

Dean let out a strangled laugh. “Right now, I want to slide these pretty red boxers off and bury myself inside you. Let you ride me until we’re both breathless, until I forget about everything except for you.”

Castiel shook his head. “As delightful as that sounds, I think you can do better.”

“Is that a challenge?” Dean raised one eyebrow as he squeezed Castiel’s ass again, making him moan.

“Yes.” Castiel smirked down at him, shifting his hips forward so Dean could feel his erection pressing into his torso. “It is.”

Never one to back down, Dean favoured him with a slow, smouldering glance, taking in every inch of Castiel’s exposed skin. “Alright, then. I want to lay you down on one of these ridiculous chaises and trace the line of your spine with my lips. I want to set that cold skin of yours on fire with my tongue.” He let one hand drift downward, just barely brushing between Castiel’s cheeks. “Then I want to taste you here. Make you fall apart, make you beg for me to fuck you, to let you come. I want to keep you on edge for what seems like hours, until you can’t say anything but my name, and then finally, slide my fingers inside and give you what you need.”

Castiel’s eyes were blown wide, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he stared at Dean. “Yes,” he said roughly. “Yes, let’s.”

Dean surged upwards and met him in a messy, desperate kiss. His hands locked around Castiel’s waist, and he was just about to flip them over and put his money where his mouth was when his phone rang.

“Fuck.” Dean sat up, scrambling in his pocket to retrieve it without even looking at the display. “What?”

“Dean?” It was Krissy’s voice, but so hushed and strained that it took a moment to register. “Dean--”

“What’s wrong?” Her tone washed over Dean like icy water, dousing all traces of arousal. “Krissy, I’m on my way.”

“Hurry,” she said. “There’s someone in the apartment.”

“Do not go in there,” Dean barked at her. “Listen to me. Get inside the bakery. Go to the kitchen, lock the doors. Grab the knives. I’m on my way.”

He ended the call and turned to look at Castiel, but he was no longer beside him. Somehow, he was coming back up the stairs, fully dressed and radiating tension. “Let’s go,” Dean said. 

They made the fifteen minute drive in seven, not saying a single word the entire way. Castiel was a column of coiled menace in the passenger seat, and the lack of expression on his face made Dean shudder every time he glanced over.

Rounding the last corner, Dean let out a muffled oath. There was a light on in the apartment above the bakery. “I told them not to--” he muttered, but the only answer was the thump of the car door closing.

Dean screeched to a halt and leaped out of the car, following after Castiel. The door to the apartment was wide open, Castiel’s footsteps thudding on the stairs as he raced upwards. Dean followed as quickly as he could, heart pounding in his chest.

In the centre of the room, Castiel was grappling with a tall figure in a black hoodie. Dean spared them a quick glance before frantically searching the room for the girls. Krissy was pressed into one corner, eyes wide but a knife clutched in her hands. She raised her chin and nodded as Dean’s eyes met hers, then jerked her head towards the opposite corner of the room.

Swiftly, Dean crossed to where Claire and Kaia were huddled together. Claire’s shirt was ripped at the shoulder and she had a long gash across the skin below it. Kaia shook her head quickly at Dean’s wordless question as he crouched in front of them. “I’m okay,” she said quietly. “He wasn’t interested in us at all.”

Claire met Dean’s eyes, the shock and guilt there making her look younger than her years. She opened her mouth to say something, but Dean held up a hand to stop her. “Come on,” he said, pulling her gently to her feet. He cast a look over his shoulder at Castiel, who was still fighting the intruder. More than anything, Dean wanted to throw himself into the mix, but he needed to get the girls out of here. Castiel could handle himself, he knew. 

He ushered the three girls towards the stairs, placing himself at their backs as they crept out. Risking one glance to see if Krissy had made it down, he felt a solid weight connect with his back and let out a surprised grunt as he crashed to his knees, hands scraping against the wooden floor.

“Go,” he yelled, pushing Kaia forward. “Get them out of here.”

She gave him one wide-eyed, stricken look, then turned away. Grimacing, Dean rose to his feet and lashed out with his fists. His blows landed solidly, but the intruder barely even flinched. 

In a stunning display, Castiel leapt across the room, tackling their opponent down to the ground. The hood fell back, revealing the face Dean had stared at for hours in a blurry phone photograph. Gadreel. Of course. 

That moment of surprise cost Dean-- Gadreel kicked out, his foot connecting with Dean’s ribs and sending him flying backwards across the room. Dean crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath, as Gadreel rounded on Castiel again. But Castiel had a firm grip on him, and despite Gadreel’s larger build, he couldn’t seem to shake him. He snarled, his composure slipping, and that was when Castiel struck.

He moved so quickly Dean could barely see it, but Gadreel yelped, a high-pitched noise of pain that had Dean wincing. With a vicious movement, he shook Castiel free and turned towards the stairs, but his steps faltered. He looked at Dean, then back at Castiel, and pivoted sharply on his heel. Castiel grabbed for him again, but he was too late. There was a crash of splintering glass, and Gadreel leaped out the window, the echo of his footsteps on the pavement soon swallowed up by the night.

The threat now passed, Dean let his eyes slip closed as the pain threatened to overwhelm him. He pressed his hand to his side, his ribs screaming in agony. Through the haze of pain, he heard Castiel’s voice, repeating his name over and over again.

“Dean.” Forcing his eyes open, Dean looked up to see Castiel crouched above him, hands outstretched. 

“No,” Dean said weakly, raising his own hands to ward him off. He couldn’t bear the thought of being touched in that moment. 

Castiel’s nostrils flared, and Dean braced himself for a reprimand, but none came. Instead, Castiel had gone perfectly still in that unnatural way of his, eyes fixed on Dean’s raised hands. 

His hands, which were bleeding freely from where he had scraped them in his first fall.

“Cas,” he said. Quietly, a warning. “Cas--”

Castiel’s mouth dropped open, and for the first time, Dean saw his fangs.

A bolt of pure terror surged through him. He had always known Castiel had the potential to be dangerous, but he’d never felt that potential directed at him. Even moments ago, watching him fight Gadreel, Dean had been impressed by his strength, not threatened by it. 

But now, Dean was afraid.

“Cas,” he said again. It didn’t seem to register. Slowly, Dean curled his hands into fists, and Castiel tensed, like a snake about to strike. 

“Castiel!”

Claire’s voice rang out like a whip. Castiel blinked, settling back on his heels and shaking his head. Dean exhaled slowly, heart racing. Castiel stared at him for a moment, eyes dropping to his tightly clenched hands.

“Dean,” he whispered. “What did I--”

“It’s okay,” Dean murmured. It wasn’t entirely true, but it was close enough. “You didn’t do anything. It’s okay.”

Turning his head, he looked over to see Claire, Krissy, and Kaia all huddled in the doorway, watching them warily. Castiel swallowed visibly, then rose to his feet. “You’re all unhurt?” he asked, looking at each of them in turn.

“Mostly,” Krissy answered. 

“What the hell were you doing up here anyway?” Dean struggled to his feet, pushing Castiel’s outstretched hand aside and ignoring the hurt that flashed across his features. “I told you to stay downstairs.”

There was a guilty pause, and then-- “It was my fault,” Claire said. “I came running up here, thinking I could handle it, and they followed me.” She grimaced, looking at Krissy and Kaia. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Kaia slipped a gentle arm around her shoulders, and Claire melted against her. “You were trying to protect us.”

Krissy nodded. “You were doing a good job holding him off, too. Pretty badass.”

Claire gave her a weak smile, then turned back to Dean, head hanging low. “I’ll go. Gadreel was looking for me, not them. They shouldn’t be in danger because of me.”

“I really don’t think that’s the best solution,” Castiel said. He sent a cautious look in Dean’s direction, and Dean nodded stiffly. God, everything hurt. 

“You’re not going anywhere.” He grabbed his phone from his pocket, relieved to see it hadn’t been damaged, and hit Charlie’s name in his contacts list. “Charlie? Yeah. Listen, I need you to get to the bakery. Like, now.”

“I’m on my way,” she replied, and the line went dead. Dean spared a second to be grateful for the kind of friendship that required no questions asked, then looked back at the others. “Charlie is a strong enchantress in her own right, and she’s picked up some pretty impressive Fae magic over the years. She can ward the place against intruders. He won’t get in again.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Who’s Charlie?”

“She’s cool,” Krissy assured her. “She’s kind of like a big sister.”

“She’ll take care of you,” Dean said firmly. “So don’t even think about sneaking out in the middle of the night, alright?” He reached out and placed a gentle hand on Claire’s shoulder, pleased when she didn’t flinch away from the touch. “We’re not going to let them hurt you again.”

Claire bit her lip, but she nodded. “How did you beat him?” she asked, turning to look at Castiel. 

“With this.” Castiel withdrew a small syringe from his pocket, the metal tip glinting in the light. “Dead blood. Poison, to our kind. It won’t kill him, but it will severely incapacitate him, and he’ll need some time to recover.”

“Good.” Claire set her jaw, eyes grim. “I hope it hurts like hell.”

“Come on.” Kaia tugged at Claire’s hand, leading her towards the bathroom. “We should clean you up.”

Krissy watched them go, an unreadable look on her face. Wincing, Dean took two steps closer to her, one hand on the wall for support. “Hey,” he said. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She gave him a little smile. “They’re good for each other. I’m happy for them.”

“I know you are.” Dean squeezed her shoulder. “But I also know that feeling like the third wheel ain’t no picnic. You ever want to talk about it--”

“I know where to find you,” Krissy finished. She shook her head. “I’m good. I promise. I’m gonna put the kettle on.”

She headed in the direction of the kitchen, leaving Dean and Castiel alone in the wreck of the living room. Dean hobbled over to the couch and dropped heavily onto it with a deep exhale, trying to find a position that didn’t make his ribs hurt even more than they already did.

“Dean.”

Castiel had moved without making a sound again. He was perched on the arm of the couch, within reach but still keeping a respectful distance. “Dean, I am most deeply sorry.”

Dean closed his eye and sighed. “Cas, it’s fine.”

“It isn’t.” There was a whisper of movement, and when Dean opened his eyes again, Castiel was crouched in front of him, remorse written on every line of his face. “I frightened you.”

There was no point denying it. “Yes.”

“I know it’s not an excuse,” Castiel said carefully. “But I normally have much better control. It was the fight, bringing out the primal urges in me. The monstrous parts of me I usually keep so well-contained.”

“You didn’t stop because of me.” Dean didn’t mean it to sound quite so much like an accusation, but it did. “You only stopped when Claire said your name.”

It was stupid, but that was what hurt the most. That he hadn’t been enough to call Castiel back to himself. 

Castiel grimaced. “At the risk of being indelicate-- what is the distress of the prey to the predator?” He laughed, but it was a harsh sound. “I recognized Claire for what she is. For what we both are.”

It made an awful kind of sense. It was still scary as hell, but it made sense. 

“And now?” Dean asked quietly. Slowly, he uncurled his hands, revealing the bloody streaks across his palms.

Castiel stiffened, but his eyes never wavered from Dean’s. “It is a hunger I can manage,” he said, his voice only slightly hoarse. “If I could rid myself of it entirely, Dean, I would. But please believe me: this will not happen again. I swear it.”

Giving Dean enough time to pull back, he reached out and refolded Dean’s hands, covering the sight of blood. Then he raised them to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to the back of each hand before releasing them and settling back on his heels. “I swear it,” he said again.

Maybe it was the very impressive display of control, or maybe it was just the conviction in Castiel’s voice. Either way, Dean believed him. Nodding shakily, he grasped Castiel by the forearms and pulled him up onto the couch beside him, curling into his side. 

Castiel let out a deep breath and wrapped a cautious arm around him. “You’re hurt.”

“Yeah. It’s not great.” Dean winced as he shifted slightly, sending a fresh pang of pain through his ribs. “But Charlie has some pretty nifty healing spells up her sleeve, so that should help.”

“Good.” Castiel lifted his hand and began to run it through Dean’s hair, soothing, his cool palm occasionally brushing against his forehead. Dean sighed and relaxed under the touch, releasing the tension he had been holding since Krissy first called. 

They stayed that way for a few moments of stolen peace until Kaia and Claire came back into the living room. Dean straightened up, disentangling himself from Castiel’s embrace. “All patched up?” he asked, glancing at Claire.

“Yeah.” She gave Kaia a small, secret smile. “I might have a scar, though.”

Castiel pressed a soft kiss to Dean’s forehead and rose to his feet, crossing the room towards Claire. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have been here--”

“Hey,” she interrupted, holding up a hand to stop him. “Don’t. This wasn’t your fault.”

“I’ve been standing guard most nights,” he said. Dean hadn’t known that, but it wasn’t exactly a surprise. “Gadreel had likely scouted the place before, and realized I don’t arrive until slightly later. He was able to plan this because of my oversight.”

“Wow, he’s just as handsome and self-flagellating as you are, Dean,” a new voice said from the doorway.

Dean looked up and rolled his eyes at Charlie. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

Both Castiel and Claire had turned to face them. Charlie looked at them, then at the mess of the living room, and planted her hands on her hips. “Well,” she said, “looks like you guys had quite the night.”

Dean struggled to his feet to make the necessary introductions. “Charlie, this is Castiel, and that’s Claire. Cas, Claire, this is Charlie. She’s a friend, and she’s going to help us out.”

“Looks like you need it,” Charlie muttered under her breath as she crossed over to the broken window. Swinging a stuffed backpack onto the floor, she began digging through its contents. “So what exactly are we setting up here?”

“A protective barrier,” Castiel replied. “Can you key it to keep out specific individuals?”

“Sure.” Charlie shrugged. “But the problem with that is when the bad guys decide to hire a goon to send instead, one who isn’t covered by the barrier.”

Castiel paused, and Dean could see the surprise and respect in his face. He covered his own smile as Castiel struggled for a response. 

“What I would do,” Charlie continued, “is the reverse. Set it up to only allow certain people through. That way you’re covered.”

“So you’re saying we won’t be able to throw a party any time soon,” Krissy said drily, coming out from the kitchen and giving Charlie a quick hug. “I think we can live with that.”

Both Kaia and Claire nodded. “We could limit it to the people in this room right now,” Kaia suggested. “We don’t get a lot of other visitors.”

Claire still didn’t look particularly thrilled about the plan. “I don’t mean to be rude--”

“It just comes naturally,” Krissy finished. She grinned at Claire, taking any sting out of it, and Dean was pleased to see that Claire just flipped her off with a matching grin. 

“But will it work?” She gave Charlie’s bag a skeptical look. “I’m pretty new to all this, and Fae magic-- well, you have to know how that sounds.”

“Yeah. It sounds awesome,” Charlie replied. She waved Claire over and pulled a few items out of the bag to show her. “It’s pretty straightforward stuff, but just enhanced by the qualities of the ingredients brought over from Faerie. I’m going to cover the window ledge, the current weakest part of the defenses, and the protection will spread from there to the rest of the apartment.”

She looked up at Dean, the first sign of hesitation. “What about the bakery?”

Dean exchanged a glance with Castiel, who just shrugged. “They’ll only be there in the daytime,” he said. “And I’ll be there most days, or Mom will. I doubt Gadreel will be bold enough to go after Claire so publicly.”

“Alright.” Charlie nodded, then looked back at Claire, her eyes softening. “I know we don’t know each other very well, but I promise. I’m good at this. You’ll be safe.”

Claire met her eyes. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

Charlie glanced at Dean, confused, and he nodded subtly in Kaia’s direction. “Ah.” Charlie bit her lip, holding back a smile. “They’ll be safe too.”

“Alright.” Claire nodded. “Do it.”

“Awesome!” With a bright grin, Charlie bounded back over to her bag and began pulling out things Dean couldn’t name. “This will take me a few minutes, and there isn’t really much you can do, so why don’t you work on clean-up in the meantime?”

She looked over her shoulder and shook her head at Dean as he started to bend to pick up a cushion from the floor. “Not you, buddy. You just sit there and rest until I can have a look at you.”

Grumbling, Dean did as he was told. He’d learned long ago that he could never win an argument with Charlie. 

The apartment was almost back to normal by the time Charlie cleared her throat. “All right, now I need all of you to come over here and hold your hands over the flame,” she instructed. “Don’t worry. It won’t hurt.”

Castiel was the first to move, his face impassive as he held one hand over the flame burning on the empty window ledge. Charlie spoke something under her breath and the flame flared green, then subsided. “Next,” she called.

The girls all took their turns while Castiel helped Dean to his feet and supported him across the room. As promised, he barely felt the heat from the flame, just a slight tingling when it turned green.

“And done.” Charlie tucked her hair behind her ears and raised one eyebrow at Dean. “Your turn.” She looked at Castiel, who was still hovering beside Dean, and gave him a polite smile. “Do you mind giving us a moment?”

“Of course,” he said quickly. With one backward look over his shoulder, he walked away to join Claire and Kaia, pulling them into a discussion too quiet for Dean to overhear.

“So,” Charlie said as she lightly prodded at his side, making him grunt in pain. “That’s the vampire.”

“Yep,” Dean said through gritted teeth. “Look, Charlie, I’m happy to talk about it, but is now really the best time?”

“Absolutely.” She beamed at him, eyes twinkling. “This way I have a guarantee you can’t just run away from talking about your feelings.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but stood patiently while she inspected his injuries, humming to herself. “He’s kind of intense,” she commented. “But I guess that’s a vampire thing.”

“Yeah.”

“And now you’re adopting vampire teenagers together?”

Dean laughed, then immediately regretted it as pain lanced through his side. “Fuck. No. I mean, kinda.”

“Uh-huh.” Charlie patted his shoulder as she rummaged through her bag again. “Look, Dean, you’re a grown-ass man, so I’m not going to give you a speech about being careful. Just--” she looked over at Castiel and shrugged-- “I know how easy it is, to lose yourself in their world.” 

“Charlie--” he started, but she shook her head.

“Not vampires, exactly. But when I first started seeing Gilda, I got swept away in the glamour and the adventure of it all. The actual relationship was a bit of a shock, when I realized we had all the normal problems, just made more complicated by who-- by what-- she was. Don’t lose sight of who he is, but even more importantly, don’t lose sight of who you are.”

Dean clenched his hands, remembering the way Castiel had looked at him earlier. The sharp, shining points of his fangs. He didn’t think he would have any trouble keeping sight of who Castiel was, not after tonight. “I won’t,” he said softly. “Thanks, kiddo.”

She patted his shoulder again, then said, “This might sting a little bit.”

Dean gasped as she laid a softly glowing hand on his side and the pain surged again, sharper than before. It receded just as quickly, leaving him breathless. Across the room, Castiel tensed and looked over at him, concerned.

“I’m fine,” Dean said, straightening up. “I’m good.”

Charlie gave a brisk nod, surveying the now-tidy room. “Well, thanks for the thrilling night, Winchester.”

“You bet.” Dean pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly. “Thanks for this, Charlie.”

“Anytime.” She saluted the others, then grabbed her bag and headed for the door. There was a flicker of green light as she passed through it, evidence of the barrier she’d raised. 

Now that the pain and the adrenaline had faded, Dean’s weariness was all that was left. He yawned, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. “I’m gonna head out,” he announced. “Cas?”

Castiel shook his head slowly, looking sidelong at Claire. “I believe I’ll stay. We have a conversation to finish.”

Dean raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but Castiel shook his head. “Okay, private vampire stuff. Cool.” He pulled both Krissy and Kaia in for quick hugs. “Get some sleep. And don’t even think about coming in until at least eleven tomorrow.”

Krissy gave him a lopsided smile. “You got it, boss.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean waved goodbye and made for the door. He felt the same tingling sensation as he passed through it, but when he turned to look back, he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Charlie had done her work well.

He was all the way down the stairs before Castiel caught up to him. “Dean,” he said quietly.

Dean turned to look at him, poised a few steps above with the hallway light illuminating his features.

“Are we--” Castiel hesitated, hands clasped behind his back.

There was a choice to be made here. Dean could walk out the door, walk away from Castiel and this whole mess. Decide that it was too much for him, that the risks outweighed the benefits and that he would eventually be better off. 

But that was exactly what Benny had done to him, and Dean wasn’t about to take a page out of his book.

Instead, he slowly climbed the stairs until he stood one step below Castiel. He didn’t say anything, but he drew his head down for a deep kiss. Castiel responded with immediate enthusiasm, and by the time they pulled apart, Dean knew he had made the right choice.

He could never give this up. Never give Castiel up.

“Goodnight, Cas,” he said softly. 

“Goodnight, Dean.” Castiel offered a small smile. “Please let us know when you arrive home safely.”

Dean laughed. “You know what?” He reached up and poked Castiel in the chest. “That’s it. That’s my condition. You want to keep doing this? You get a goddamn cell phone.”

Castiel’s smile widened. “I’ll let Claire order me one online. She will enjoy mocking me in the process.”

“Perfect.” Dean leaned up and kissed him again, softer this time, then pulled away reluctantly. “I really have to go.”

“Yes.” Castiel stepped back, hands falling to his sides. “Get some rest, Dean.”

Dean swallowed roughly as he turned away, mentally filling in the unspoken words at the end of Castiel’s sentence. _While we still can._


	10. Chapter 10

Castiel stood on the street, looking up at the apartment above the bakery. It had been three nights since Gadreel’s attack, and he had spent each of them here, a silent sentinel against the threats that emerged with the setting of the sun. 

The apartment was dark, the curtains pulled tightly across the windows. Castiel shifted his weight from side to side, tensing as a car revved its engine a few blocks away. The normal noises of the city were magnified by his wariness, and he scowled at the cat that rummaged through a nearby dumpster. Supremely unconcerned, it flicked its tail in his direction and carried on with its business.

Balthazar would have something cutting to say about Castiel not being threatening enough to frighten off a cat. Castiel sighed, his hand drifting to the brand new cell phone in his pocket. He’d only received one message from Balthazar, a string of open-mouthed emojis indicating his surprise at Castiel’s new acquisition. It was enough to reassure Castiel that he was safe, but he missed his friend, especially on nights like this. It would have been nice to have him for company through the long dark.

The sudden vibration of his phone startled him. Sliding it out of his pocket, he smiled at the sight of Dean’s name on the screen. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.” Even through the tiny speaker, Dean’s voice was warm and rich, settling over Castiel like a blanket. “I’m just headed out from the bar for the night. Was thinking I might stop by your place on my way home.”

Castiel hesitated. The thought was tempting, especially after they had been interrupted the other night. 

Before he could reply, though, Dean let out a short laugh. “Wait. What was I thinking? You’re probably not even at home, are you? You’re standing outside the bakery, being one with the shadows or whatever.”

Looking down at his all-black outfit, Castiel sighed. “You could put it that way, yes.”

“Okay, Lord of the Night,” Dean teased. “You want some company?”

He did. He truly did. But more than that, Castiel wanted Dean smiling and happy and healthy, well-rested for the storm that he could feel brewing in the city. “I think it’s better if you get some rest,” he said gently. 

Dean would deny it, but Castiel could read the signs of strain in him, the lines around his eyes and the slight pallor of his skin. He insisted he was fully healed from the fight with Gadreel, thanks to Charlie, but Castiel was unconvinced. 

“Are you a doctor now?” Dean’s tone remained light, but there was an edge of something sharper to it. 

“No. Just someone with a vested interest in your continued well-being.”

That silenced Dean for a moment. “Fine,” he said eventually. “But we’re revisiting the doctor thing at a later date.”

Castiel choked back a laugh. “I believe that’s a fair compromise.”

“Night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.” Castiel put his phone in his pocket, smiling to himself as he settled back against the brick wall. The same wall he had been leaning against the first morning he met Dean, if he remembered correctly.

It had only been a month since then, but it seemed an eternity. He would never have imagined seeing Dean again, let alone spending so much time with him. Caring for him so deeply. 

Over four hundred years of existence, and he had not yet lost his capacity for surprise. Castiel thought that was probably a good thing.

He drifted into a pleasant haze of memories, eyes pointed in the direction of the apartment but not truly seeing it. The streets gradually quieted around him, cars passing less frequently as the night went on. The moon rose higher in the sky, nearly full. The werewolves would be out in force tomorrow, the city’s parks given a wide berth by humans and other creatures alike.

Only the tiniest crunching noise gave him warning. Castiel whirled around, dropping into a defensive crouch, narrowly avoiding the blow that Gadreel launched towards him. His hand slipped to his pocket and he held up his syringe, newly-filled with dead blood courtesy of the ghouls, who had raised their eyebrows at his second purchase but asked no questions. 

Gadreel hissed and took a step backwards. Slowly, he reached into his own pocket and withdrew an identical syringe, its sharp point glinting in the streetlight.

Castiel sucked in a breath, keeping his eyes fixed warily on the other vampire. “So,” he said. “It seems we are at an impasse.”

Gadreel inclined his head gravely. “We are well-matched in strength,” he agreed. “You had the advantage over me in our last encounter, but tonight, I came prepared.”

“You know I cannot let you pass,” Castiel said grimly. Protective barrier or not, he was the first line of defense, and he would not falter.

“I know.” Gadreel tilted his head to the side, inspecting Castiel closely. “Why does the young one concern you so deeply?”

Castiel had no desire to explain the complicated responsibility he felt towards Claire. “How can you be so unconcerned?” he shot back instead. “How can you aid Marv’s vain quest for power, caring so little for everyone else it affects?”

Gadreel froze, his impassive face finally showing a trace of emotion. “You know about Metatron?”

“Yes.” Castiel sighed, relaxing slightly. “Why do you follow him, Gadreel?”

It took a moment for him to answer, and when he did, his voice was barely above a whisper. “He promised me a place at his side. A community. A place to call home.” He raised his head and met Castiel’s eyes, a curious combination of grief and defiance in his expression. “My maker was killed, five years ago. I have been alone since.”

Castiel vaguely remembered hearing something about it. An embittered human, a vampire caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. “I am sorry,” he said softly. Complicated as his relationship with Naomi might be, he would mourn her passing deeply. “But that does not excuse your behaviour, nor his.”

“I tried to care for the young ones.” Gadreel shook his head. “They are to be our family. But Metatron said they should be tested first, left to their own devices so they will know how deeply they need us.”

Castiel’s nostrils flared with indignation. “That’s vile.”

Gadreel’s expression turned guilty. “I do not wish to harm her,” he said, nodding towards the bakery. “Only bring her back.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust you.” Castiel folded his arms across his chest and tried to make sense of the rush of thoughts crowding his mind. On the one hand, Gadreel hadn’t yet moved to attack him. On the other, he could be lulling Castiel into a false sense of security. But something in the look on his face gave Castiel pause, gave him hope.

A reckless, foolish hope. 

He cleared his throat and said, “We need to talk further. But not here.”

Gadreel stared as Castiel carefully put the syringe back in his pocket, holding up his empty hands in a gesture of peace. “There’s a bar not far from here, run by demons. We can talk there.”

“Just talk?” Gadreel asked.

“Yes.”

After another moment’s hesitation, Gadreel put away his weapon. They fell into step beside each other, Castiel throwing one backwards glance over his shoulder at the dark apartment. He didn’t like leaving it unguarded, but he was comforted by the fact that he was drawing the biggest threat away from there. 

The demon bar was cramped and dimly lit, but no one gave them a second glance as they entered, for which Castiel was grateful. He slid the bartender a few bills but shook his head as she reached for the bottle of red wine. She shrugged, took the money, and jerked a thumb towards an empty table in the far corner of the room.

Gadreel took the seat facing out to the rest of the room, eyes darting around warily. “I should not be here,” he muttered under his breath. “And especially not with you.”

“Because Marv ordered you to kill me?” Castiel asked, feigning a casual tone. As though discussing his own murder was nothing to him.

“No,” Gadreel said sharply. “Only as a final resort. We hoped you could be persuaded to abandon Lawrence, like your friend Balthazar did.”

“Ah.” Castiel laced his fingers together and rested his chin on his joined hands. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Gadreel sat up abruptly, scowling. “Why did you not leave? It would have been far easier for you.”

Castel shook his head slowly. “This city is my home. There are good people here, human and non-human alike. I have a duty to protect it from those only interested in their own power.”

“Metatron has the best interests of Lawrence’s vampires at heart,” Gadreel said, but there was no real conviction in his voice. He sounded as though he was parroting something he had been told repeatedly, something he had tried to believe. 

“No,” Castiel told him gently. “He does not. He does not even have your best interests at heart, Gadreel. He is thinking only of our kind, but Lawrence is home to other forces as well.” He nodded at their surroundings. “The King of Hell has a special residence here. Do you think the demons will simply accept an ambitious vampire establishing himself as a lord here? And the police force-- they’re well-trained and well-prepared. They know who you are, Gadreel. If Marv needs a sacrificial offering, a scapegoat, where do you think he will look?”

Gadreel’s face went pale. “He would not...” He trailed off, and Castiel felt a flash of sympathy for him.

“We both know he would.” Impulsively, Castiel reached out and rested a gentle hand on Gadreel’s forearm. “Help me. Help me stop him. With your assistance, your insight, I can.”

“And how will that be any better for me?” Gadreel shook his head. “What benefits will that bring me?”

“Some measure of peace, I should think.” Castiel withdrew his hand and shrugged. “Atonement, if you will.”

“And a reputation as a traitor, a betrayer. There will be no place for me.”

Castiel would not lie to him. “Not here,” he agreed. “There will be too many memories. But if you help me, I will help you. I have extensive contacts, both here in America and in Europe. I can find a place for you. A home. But first I need to defeat Marv.”

Gadreel toyed with the napkin on the table, shredding it into tiny pieces. His face was set in lines of distress. Castiel waited, as patiently as he could manage, until the napkin was completely destroyed.

Only then did Gadreel look up and meet his eyes. “He plans to take over the blood bank,” he said abruptly. “Once it’s under his control, the entire vampire population of Lawrence will be beholden to him. All the new vampires have been an effort to destabilize it, in addition to filling the ranks of his supporters.”

Castiel exhaled slowly, sitting back in his chair. It made perfect, terrible sense. The blood bank was where this had all begun, and of course it would end there. Taking control of it would guarantee allegiance from most of the vampires in the city, who depended on it for their continued survival. They would not risk resistance and ensuing starvation. 

“We have to stop him,” Castiel said. “But how?”

Gadreel shook his head slowly. “I do not know. His plan is nearly complete.” His lips twitched in distaste. “His glorious destiny, as he calls it.”

An idea was beginning to form in Castiel’s mind. “He enjoys grand gestures, ceremony and such?”

“Yes.” Gadreel nodded. “The rambling speeches I’ve endured, you cannot imagine.”

A slow smile crept across Castiel’s face. “I know how to stop him,” he said. “I’m going to challenge him to a duel.”

Gadreel’s mouth dropped open. The sheer surprise on his face would be comical under other circumstances, but right now, it only spoke to the absurdity of what Castiel was suggesting. “A duel. Castiel, there has not been a vampire duel recorded since--”

“The late 1800s, I believe,” Castiel finished smoothly. “Yes, I’m well aware.” He smiled sharply. “And do you recall the participants?”

“Of course,” Gadreel replied. “Bartholomew suffered a terrible defeat at the hands of--” He broke off, his eyes widening. “Naomi. Your maker.”

“Indeed.” Castiel shrugged. “We may not see eye to eye on all matters, but there is no denying she is a force to be reckoned with. As am I.”

“I am beginning to see that,” Gadreel murmured. “Very well. You have my support, Castiel. How may I serve you?”

“I will need to draft a challenge. Can I count on you to deliver it?”

“You can.”

“Very well.” Castiel rose to his feet. “We should not communicate openly. Best if Marv still believes you to be on his side. There’s a demon named Ruby. If you ask for her here, she can get a message to me.”

Gadreel stood, extending his hand to Castiel. Reaching out, Castiel clasped it between both of his own. “Thank you,” he said. 

“Do not thank me yet.” A trace of grim humour flickering in Gadreel’s eyes. “For all his eccentricities, Metatron is still incredibly strong. It is not an easy fight you are walking into.”

“I know,” Castiel told him. “But it is a worthwhile one.”

With that, he turned and left the bar. The night air was cool, and he stood for a moment, letting it wash over him. It was a relief, after so many weeks of uncertainty, to have a goal to work towards, and to have a new ally.

Gadreel’s shift in allegiance didn’t stop Castiel from returning to his vigil outside the bakery, though. He returned there, sinking into the shadow of the surrounding buildings, and remained, wakeful and watchful, until the sun began to rise.

He woke the next evening to the sound of someone pounding at his door. Stumbling out of bed, he grabbed the robe that hung over the back of the bathroom door and made his way up the stairs, all the disastrous possibilities running through his mind. Was it Gadreel, his shifting loyalties discovered by Marv? Or Claire, under attack again, seeking his protection?

Throwing the door open wide, he blinked at the sight of Dean standing there, fist poised to thud against the wood again. He opened his mouth to speak, but before the words could emerge, Dean was advancing on him, eyes flashing and mouth grim.

“What the hell were you thinking!” he shouted. “Going off alone with Gadreel? He could have killed you, Cas!”

Castiel blamed his abrupt awakening for his inability to put the pieces together. “How do you know I--”

Dean rolled his eyes impatiently. “You went to a demon bar, Cas. We have demons watching for Gadreel, remember? One of them tipped Ruby off, and she told me. I’ve been standing out here since the sun started to set, waiting to give you a piece of my mind.”

“Yes,” Castiel said drily, “I can see that.”

He ushered Dean inside and shut the door firmly behind them. “Will I be given a chance to explain myself?”

“Not yet,” Dean replied, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at him. “Was this your plan all along? To meet with him, to try to win him over to our side? Is that why you didn’t want to see me last night, because you were trying to keep me away from your little negotiation?”

It was the the undercurrent of hurt in his voice that made Castiel flinch, but Dean wasn’t done yet. “I know you think I’m just some defenseless human, and I know you’re trying to keep me safe, but I told you, Cas, I’m already involved in this, and there’s no point trying to push me out now.”

His cheeks were flushed with righteous indignation, his eyes sparking with passion. He looked vital and alive and perfectly capable of tearing even the strongest vampire apart with his bare hands. 

Castiel had never wanted him more. 

He took a step towards Dean, reaching out carefully. Dean raised his chin defiantly but didn’t step back, so Castiel clasped him by both elbows, bringing their faces close together. He leaned his forehead against Dean’s and exhaled slowly, feeling the racing of Dean’s pulse as he did.

“I didn’t plan it,” he murmured. “I swear. I was on guard outside the bakery when Gadreel appeared. We fought briefly, but we had both come prepared with dead blood, and neither of us particularly felt like suffering its effects.”

Dean stiffened in his arms. “So what, you just went for a drink and a chat instead?”

Castiel smiled wryly. “Essentially, yes. I persuaded him to lay down his arms, and we had a conversation about Marv, and about doing the right thing. There is honour in him, Dean, and a deep loneliness. It has been misguided, but it can be redirected. I truly believe this.”

Sighing, Dean shook his head, lowering it to rest on Castiel’s shoulder. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you that brooding creatures of the night are supposed to have more trust issues?”

Laughing, Castiel pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I have plenty,” he assured him. “And enough skepticism to wonder if I am making a grave mistake. But things needed to be moved forward, Dean.” He paused, clearing his throat. “Marv is going to try to take over the blood banks. That has been his plan all along, his perceived path to power.”

Dean drew back, eyes wide. “That’s sick.”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed. “We cannot allow it to happen. So I’ve challenged him to a duel.”

“A duel,” Dean repeated flatly. “That’s-- that’s a thing? Still?”

Castiel could understand his disbelief. It did sound rather ridiculous, put so bluntly. “It is,” he said. “Not the way you might imagine it, with pistols at dawn. A vampire duel is a very different matter.”

“But the stakes are just as high.” Dean narrowed his eyes, the lack of a joke about ‘stakes’ a clear indicator of how seriously he took the situation.

As much as he wanted to reassure Dean, Castiel could not bring himself to lie to him. “Yes,” he said softly. “It is a fight to the death.”

“Fuck you.” The words were barely above a whisper. Dean didn’t step out of Castiel’s embrace, but he turned his head away, his shoulders strained. “You noble, self-sacrificing idiot.”

It wasn’t the words themselves that pierced Castiel’s heart, but the tone in which they were spoken. Swallowing roughly, he placed his hand on Dean’s face and turned it back to his own. “Dean,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I didn’t have time to consult you on this matter. I’m sorry circumstances forced my hand. But I cannot be sorry for this, not when it might mean the end to Marv’s ambitions.”

Dean laughed bitterly. “It might mean _your end_ , Castiel.”

“I know.” Castiel closed his eyes. “I’ve lived a long time, Dean. A preoccupation with death comes with the territory.” He opened them again, looking at Dean, the contours of his face that had become so familiar and so dear to him. “I do not wish to die, nor do I intend to. But if I do--”

His words were lost in the suddenness of Dean’s kiss. Castiel made a small noise of surprise, but pressed his mouth back to Dean’s with equal hunger. He tasted of beer and something sweet, likely something from the bakery. Castiel slanted his mouth sideways, chasing the intoxicating flavour of him. He closed the distance between them and kept moving forward until Dean’s back hit the wall behind them, supporting him as he trembled in Castiel’s arms. 

Winding his arms around Castiel’s neck, Dean tipped his head back against the wall, eyes dark with desire. It put the gorgeous line of his neck on shameless display, and Castiel leaned forward to trail his lips down it, relishing the way it made Dean shudder. Gently, he scraped his teeth down the column of Dean’s neck, and Dean let loose the most the gorgeous noise he had ever heard.

Castiel could see the veins standing out in his neck, could feel the thunderous beating of his heart, but his hunger was not for Dean’s blood. It was for him, the totality of his being, that radiant person wrapped in this beautiful body. In the acceptance of his own potential death, Dean’s vitality called to him like it never had before, and Castiel needed it, needed that reminder that he was not yet gone from this world, that there was still life for him here. 

A life worth fighting for.

Dropping his hands to Dean’s thighs, he hoisted him effortlessly, bringing their lower bodies into direct contact. Dean let out a breathless laugh and kissed him again, nipping gently at his lower lip until Castiel growled and spun them around, heading in the direction of the stairs. 

Dean laughed again, burying his head in the crook of Castiel’s shoulder. “You’re unreal,” he said, voice rough. He wrapped his arms more securely around Castiel’s shoulders, though there was little need for it. Castiel could bear his weight easily, his steps still smooth as he descended the stairs. 

Gently, he deposited Dean on the bed, giving him a lingering kiss as he did. He pulled away for a moment to light the candles scattered around the room while Dean moved further up the bed, eyes fixed on his face. 

Castiel took a moment to look at him, the way he rested against the bed with such ease, only the drumming of his fingers against the soft covers betraying his impatience. Memories of the last time they were here like this flashed through Castiel’s mind, and his breathing quickened as endless possibilities for tonight followed. Crawling across the bed, Castiel loomed above him, reaching down to entwine their hands as he captured Dean’s lips in another kiss. 

When he finally pulled away, Dean was gasping for breath. “Don’t stop,” he begged. “Cas, don’t stop.”

“Very well,” Castiel replied, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat. “I will not.”

He pulled his hands from Dean’s grip and slowly began to unbutton his plaid shirt, pausing to kiss every inch of bare skin as it was revealed. He traced the spread of Dean’s ribs with his tongue, Dean’s hips bucking off the bed as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. Moving lower, he looked up at Dean for permission before popping the fly on his jeans and dragging them slowly down his legs. 

“You are stunning,” he murmured, brushing over the line of Dean’s hip with a careful fingertip. He repeated the motion on the other side, then toyed with the edge of Dean’s boxers, watching the way Dean’s abdomen clenched with barely restrained desire. “In all my long years, Dean, never have I--”

He couldn’t find the right words to express himself. Shaking his head, he let his finger drift lower, running it along the bulge of Dean’s erection through the fabric of his underwear. Dean hissed through gritted teeth, hands scrambling in the sheets. “Please,” he said. “Cas, touch me, please.”

Castiel moved back upwards to kiss him again, giving them both a moment to regain control. His own cock was hard and insistent against the silk of his boxers, but he could endure it. For now, he wanted to focus on Dean.

Reaching between them, he closed his hand around Dean’s length, watching the way his eyes fluttered closed at that first contact. He stroked him lightly through the cotton before using his free hand to tug the material off, leaving Dean bare before him, the candlelight turning his skin to gold. 

Keeping a hand on him, Castiel leaned down to press a kiss right above the base of his cock. Dean’s hips rose sharply off the bed, and Castiel soothed him with a soft hand down his flank. Instinctively, Dean’s legs spread wider, and Castiel swallowed roughly at the image he presented, so impatient and inviting. 

Gently, he let his hand drift lower, barely brushing over his entrance. “May I?” he asked.

“God, yes.” Dean shifted again, looking up at him with yearning in every line of his face. “Want you inside me, Cas.”

Castiel smiled as he increased the pressure of his searching hand. “Soon,” he promised. “But first-- will you turn over for me, Dean?”

Without hesitating, Dean rolled onto his stomach, then smoothly raised himself up on all fours. Castiel drew in a sharp breath at the picture he presented, leaning forward to kiss the very base of his spine. “Good,” he murmured. “So good for me, Dean.”

Pulling away, he located the lubricant he kept in the bedside table and poured a generous amount over his hand. Dean let out a sigh of pure satisfaction at the first touch of Castiel’s finger against his hole, rocking back towards him. Castiel forced himself to go slowly, to luxuriate in the sensation despite Dean’s clear need. He breached him slowly, keeping his movements slow and controlled, before adding a second finger.

Dean’s head dropped lower, his back arching as Castiel slid his fingers in and out in a steady rhythm. Adjusting his angle slightly, Castiel brushed against that hidden spot deep inside him, and Dean moaned. “Yeah,” he gasped out. “Like that, Cas, just like that.”

Castiel continued his movements, quickening his pace slightly. Dean was panting now, his hips shifting backwards to meet the press of Castiel’s fingers. “More,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Castiel, his lower lip caught between his teeth. “Give me more.”

It was intoxicating, the desire in his eyes. Castiel nodded and slid a third finger into him, feeling the stretch and the give of him as he did. Dean shuddered, so Castiel leaned forward, dropping kisses across the back of his shoulders until he relaxed in his hold, and only then did he begin to move his fingers again. 

He was so warm. Not only inside, but everywhere. Castiel could feel his own skin beginning to take on some of Dean’s warmth, his usual chill seeping away in face of Dean’s brilliant heat. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside that warmth, to be as close as two bodies could be. To be joined together, to forget the impending possibility of eternal separation.

Reaching down between them, he brushed his free hand lightly over Dean’s cock, making him cry out. “Please.” It was almost a whimper. “Castiel, please, I need you.”

He had waited long enough. He would not torment either of them any more. 

Sliding his fingers out, Castiel slipped out of his boxers and robe before adding a generous amount of lubricant to his hand, hissing in pleasure as he applied it to his own straining length. Dean looked back over his shoulder, tongue darting out to trace over his lips as he watched the movement of Castiel’s hand on his cock. He tilted his hips up in clear invitation, and Castiel sunk inside him, exquisitely slow.

They both let out groans of satisfaction. Castiel held himself still, allowing Dean’s body to adjust, dropping kisses down the length of his spine. After a moment, Dean rocked his hips backwards, impatient, and Castiel began to move.

Their laboured breathing echoed through the room as he thrust into Dean’s body again and again. Nothing in the world had ever felt quite like this. Not the sun on his face in the fields of Eastern Europe as a young man, nor the first taste of blood when he was newly turned, nor any of the numerous and varied sexual encounters he’d had in the past. He could ascribe the difference to the heightened awareness of his own mortality, but he knew that was not the main reason.

The reason was Dean.

Dean, who was gasping beneath him, meeting each of his movements with his own. Dean, so open and warm and inviting, from the very first moment they met. Dean, his earlier anger with Castiel barely masking the depth of his true feelings. Castiel groaned and drove himself forward with new intensity, draping himself over Dean’s back and pressing himself as closely as he could.

It wasn’t enough. He withdrew, just for a moment, ignoring Dean’s whine of protest, and smoothly turned him over so he could look into his face. Dean’s lips were parted, his eyes glassy, but they locked onto Castiel’s with ferocity as Castiel settled between his legs and slid inside him once more.

Dean reached up with trembling hands, cupping Castiel’s face and drawing him in for a kiss. Castiel responded with fervour, mimicking the motion of his lower body with his tongue, pressing forward then withdrawing again. He wouldn’t last much longer this way, overwhelmed by the enormity of it all, and he needed to ensure Dean’s release before seeking his own. 

Bracing himself on one arm, he used his other hand to reach between them and began to stroke Dean’s cock, matching his movements to the rhythm of his thrusts. Dean moaned, eyes fixed on Castiel’s. “Cas,” he said, the name never sounding sweeter on his lips. “God, Cas, yes.”

“Come for me,” Castiel whispered, increasing his pace. They called it _le petit mort_ , the French. It was the only death Castiel would encourage them towards. “Now, Dean.”

With a broken cry, Dean did, spilling over Castiel’s hand and clenching around him with the intensity of his release. His head dropped back against the pillows, but his hands rose to grip Castiel by the hips, pulling him closer.

“Now you,” he murmured. “Let go, Cas. I’m here.”

Castiel dropped his head down to Dean’s chest as his hips stuttered, Dean’s big, rough hands holding him in place. “I’m here,” Dean said again. “Stay with me.”

With one last drive forward, Castiel came, emptying himself inside Dean’s body with a low moan. Dean’s hands traced soothing circles on his hips as he slowly came back to himself, enough to look down into Dean’s face and reply, “Always.”

Dean’s eyelashes swept down, and when they lifted again, the emotion behind them stole what breath Castiel had regained from his lungs. “I love you,” Dean said softly. “I know it’s too soon, but I don’t care.”

He looked so vulnerable, his feelings laid as bare as their bodies. Castiel shook his head slowly, amazed at the generosity of the gesture, of the bravery it took to say such a thing so boldly.

“I love you,” he replied. There was no other possible response. “I love you, Dean.”

Letting out a trembling laugh, Dean raised himself up. Castiel flowed onto his knees, and Dean’s arms came around him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. They were both sweaty and sticky, the evidence of their activities clinging to their skin, but Castiel didn’t care. He met Dean’s kiss with open-mouthed passion until they were both panting again, until they slowly fell back to the bed and made slow, languorous love through the rest of the night, long past the point when the candles flickered and went out.


	11. Chapter 11

The timer on the oven beeped, and Dean reluctantly pulled away from Castiel’s embrace to take out the tray of muffins. They were spending the night baking, a hotly-negotiated compromise that allowed Castiel to remain near Claire in case of trouble without lurking outside on the pavement. 

They also got to spend a fair bit of their time like this, with Castiel sitting on the counter and Dean pressed between his spread legs, kissing lazily. “They’re going to burn,” Dean murmured, but Castiel didn’t seem inclined to let him go. 

“Let them,” he whispered, gathering Dean close again. “We can make more.”

Laughing, Dean surrendered to his kisses. It had always been good between them, but ever since they admitted their feelings three nights ago, it had only gotten better. Dean lost himself in the press of Castiel’s lips, the firmness of his chest and the softness of his hair as he buried his hands in it, bringing them even closer. 

He cursed out loud as his phone beeped. Grimacing an apology, he glanced down at the screen and quickly brought it up to his ear. “Ruby?”

Castiel looked up sharply, eyes narrowing. Dean put the call on speaker so they could both listen, though he was pretty sure Castiel’s hearing was good enough not to need it. “You got something?”

“Sure do,” Ruby drawled. “Where are you? I’m coming to pick you up. It’s time for a strategy session.”

Castiel frowned. “We’re at the bakery.”

“Well hello to you too, Castiel,” Ruby said. “I’ll only have to make one stop. How convenient. Be there in five.”

She hung up, leaving Dean and Castiel staring at each other in confusion. “Strategy session?” Dean asked. “What does that mean?”

Castiel shook his head slowly. “I have no idea. I can only assume it involves Gadreel, since we asked him to use Ruby as a contact.” He looked around the kitchen, a faint smile appearing on his lips. “I suppose we’d better clean up.”

Sighing, Dean turned off the oven and gave the muffins a critical glance. They were overdone, but not too badly. They could sell them at reduced cost in the morning. Or, technically speaking, later today. 

Not even five minutes later, Ruby’s sleek convertible pulled up outside the bakery. Dean shut off all the lights and locked the door while Castiel cast a troubled look up at the apartment. Dean patted him on the back and guided him into the car. “They’ll be fine,” he said. 

“I certainly hope so,” Castiel muttered.

Ruby looked back over her shoulder as they slid into the backseat. “No gross stuff,” she said, “like holding hands.”

Dean snorted and deliberately let his hand rest on Castiel’s thigh instead, catching her eye in the rearview mirror. He thought he saw a glimmer of a smile on her lips before she looked down, focusing on the road.

It didn’t take long for Dean to figure out their destination from the route she took through town. “Why are we going to Crowley’s?”

“Safest place to meet,” Ruby said briefly. “Nobody gets in who isn’t supposed to be there. And as you know, Crowley has a vested interest in this situation, on top of just wanting to be kept in the loop.”

Castiel snorted in amusement. “Somehow, this doesn’t surprise me at all. Who else will be joining us?”

Ruby’s grin was sharp. “Oh, you’ll see.”

“I don’t know if I like the sound of that,” Dean murmured.

Castiel laid his hand over Dean’s and squeezed it gently. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

Smiling across at him, Dean leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You’re cute when you’re trying to be positive.”

“I said no gross stuff,” Ruby said in exasperation. “Good thing we’re almost there.”

There were more guards at the gate to Crowley’s mansion than Dean remembered. They inspected Dean and Castiel closely before waving them through, and even the demon valet gave them wide-eyed looks before taking the keys Ruby thrust impatiently at him. 

“What’s going on?” Dean asked her, pulling her aside so as not to be overheard. “Why are they all looking at us like that? They saw us last time, it can’t just be the novelty.”

“Not exactly.” She shook her head, leading them inside the mansion. “Word travels fast, and everyone knows Castiel challenged Marv to a duel.” She threw an amused look over her shoulder at Castiel. “Half of them are swooning over the old-time romance of it, the other half are panting for blood. You’ve got the whole place riled up.”

Castiel stiffened, frowning. “That was not my intention.”

“You know what they say about intentions and Hell,” Ruby replied with a shrug. “Face it, Castiel. You’re well on your way to becoming a legend.”

Castiel’s frown didn’t fade as they entered the audience hall, even when Dean took his hand, ignoring Ruby’s pointed eye-roll. There were fewer demons in attendance than there had been last time, most of them clustered near the door, a respectful distance left between them and the circle of chairs in the center of the room.

As they drew near, Dean recognized Gadreel’s tall frame and stumbled slightly. Rationally, he knew Gadreel was on their side now, but it was hard to suppress the memory of being tossed around like a rag doll at his hands only a week before. He looked up at Castiel for reassurance, but Castiel had frozen, his grip on Dean’s hand suddenly painfully tight as he looked at the woman seated beside Gadreel.

“Naomi,” he breathed.

She rose gracefully to her feet and approached them. Without even thinking, Dean stepped forward, placing himself between her and Castiel. With one cool raised eyebrow, she nodded at him. “You must be Mr. Winchester,” she said. Her voice was brisk, but not uninterested. “It’s an honour to meet you.”

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked. It probably wasn’t the best idea to be so rude to such a powerful vampire, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

She looked past him, a flicker of what might have been wistfulness in her eyes as she gazed at Castiel. “Castiel may need my help,” she said simply. 

Dean looked back in time to see the motion of Castiel’s throat as he swallowed roughly. “Naomi,” he said again, moving past Dean. “It’s--” he paused with a small laugh-- “thank you for coming.”

She inclined her head gravely and indicated the circle of chairs with a wave of her hand. “Shall we?”

Ruby, Castiel, and Dean took the three empty chairs. Crowley gave Dean a smirk as he sat, making him shudder. “Welcome to our council of war,” he said. 

“War?” Dean repeated. “That’s a bit of an overstatement.”

“Many conflicts have been settled by single combat,” Naomi said with a shake of her head. “Do not underestimate what is happening here, Mr. Winchester. It is a preemptive battle to stave off a larger war. Marv’s plan begins with Lawrence, but I fear it does not end here.”

“She’s right,” Castiel said softly. “It would not matter so much otherwise.”

Dean let out a noisy exhale and crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay, fine.” He turned to Castiel, frowning. “What exactly does a vampire duel involve, anyway? We never really--” He trailed off, remembering how that conversation had ended. Heat rose in his cheeks and he cleared his throat. “You never really explained.”

Castiel clasped his hands in front of him and looked at Naomi, not at Dean, as he answered. “It is a test of will,” he said quietly. “You know of sway?”

Fighting back a sudden wave of unease, Dean nodded. “Yeah. Of course. It’s illegal, though.”

“Illegal against humans,” Ruby corrected him. Despite the lazy way she leaned in her chair, her eyes were sharp as she looked at Castiel. “Not against other vampires?”

“No.” Castiel shook his head. “It is a matter of honour, among our kind, never to use it against each other. Except--”

“Except during a duel,” Dean finished, his heart sinking in his chest. “Cas, that’s--”

“It’s incredibly challenging,” Naomi said. “It requires great strength of will to pit your mind against your enemy’s. Even the victor is left weakened afterwards.”

“But you did it,” Castiel said, looking at her. “You won your duel against Bartholomew.”

“And that’s precisely why I invited her here today,” Crowley said smoothly. “I have a stake-- pardon the word choice-- in your continued survival, Castiel.” His eyes flicked in Dean’s direction. “As much as I might like to see you as a rival to be eliminated, I would prefer you here than this Marv.”

“I can help you prepare.” Naomi sat perfectly upright, looking like she would be entirely unaffected no matter Castiel’s answer, but Dean could see her tension in the way she gripped the arms of her chair. 

Castiel exhaled slowly, looking over at Dean. Dean spread his hands in a helpless gesture. He couldn’t even begin to understand the complicated relationship Castiel had with his maker, and he wouldn’t presume to influence Castiel’s choice here.

Finally, Castiel nodded. “Thank you,” he said stiffly.

“Excellent.” Crowley clapped his hands together, smiling at them all. “Now. Gadreel. Marv has accepted the challenge?”

“He has,” Gadreel replied. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper. “To my brother Castiel,” he read, “greetings and salutations. I received your challenge with great interest and no small amount of amusement. Naturally, I accept. As the challenged party, I name the date as the third of May, and the location as City Hall Square. Until then, your respectful opponent, Metatron.”

A tense silence fell as Gadreel’s voice trailed off. Dean swallowed heavily as he glanced at Castiel’s impassive face. Only two days. Two days, and Castiel could be dead. 

“That doesn’t give us much time,” Naomi said. “We should begin immediately.” She turned to Crowley. “May we continue to use your space? I do not trust Marv not to attempt to eliminate Castiel before the duel can even take place.”

“Of course,” Crowley said graciously. “You are my guest here.” 

“So that’s it, then?” Dean interrupted. “You get two days to learn some Jedi Master tricks and then just walk cheerfully to your possible death?”

Ruby gave him a look of what might have been approval as Castiel cleared his throat and laid a hand on Dean’s arm. “May we have a moment?”

Crowley dismissed them with a wave, turning to Gadreel and beginning a conversation about Marv’s strength. Dean and Castiel withdrew to the far corner of the room, and Dean sighed as Castiel tightened his jaw and glared at him.

“What would you have me do, Dean?” he whispered fiercely. “Stoop to Marv’s level and attempt to take him out now? Leave town like Balthazar did?”

Dean shook his head, already regretting his outburst. “No,” he said. “I’m sorry, Cas. You know I’m so fucking proud of you, right?”

Castiel blinked in surprise. “You are?”

“I am.” Dean stepped forward and raised a hand to his cheek, his skin cool to the touch as always. “I don’t always react well when I’m scared for the people I care about. And I’m terrified for you.”

Laying his own hand over Dean’s, Castiel closed his eyes. “I am also frightened,” he said. “But with Naomi’s help-- Dean, I can do this. I can see this done.”

“Of course you can.” Dean smiled around the lump rising in his throat. Scared as he might be, Castiel needed him to be strong. “I believe in you, Cas.” He tapped his fingers lightly against Castiel’s forehead. “Go defeat the bad guy with the power of your mind.”

A smile curling at the edges of his lips, Castiel caught Dean’s hand and kissed it. “I may not see you before then,” he murmured. “Watch over Claire for me?”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded, his eyes burning. He took a deep breath and tried to control himself. “Yeah, of course.”

“Be well, Dean.” Castiel kissed him softly, like the goodbye Dean never wanted to hear him speak out loud. “I’ll see you in two days.”

Then he walked away, leaving Dean’s heart shattered in his chest.

Ruby joined him a minute later, dark eyes flicking over his face. “We may as well head out,” she said, voice less acidic than usual. “Naomi and Castiel are going to start their training, and if we stay, Crowley’s going to put the moves on you for sure.”

“Urgh.” Dean shuddered and shook his head. “Definitely time to go.” He cast one last look at Castiel as they walked away, but he was deep in conversation with Naomi. He would be alright, Dean told himself. He had to be.

They drove back into town in silence. Ruby pulled up outside Dean’s building and cut the engine, turning to look at him. “I’m sorry,” she said abruptly. “This must suck for you.”

Her bluntness broke through Dean’s misery, and he almost laughed. “That’s putting it mildly.”

She tilted her head to the side. “You really love him, don’t you?”

“I do,” Dean whispered. “And as much as I hate it, him doing this only makes me love him more.”

Reaching out, she patted his shoulder. It was strange to see her hand on his jacket and realize how small it was, how tiny she was compared to the scope of her presence. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if you need to talk--”

“Wow.” Dean managed a shaky grin. “Sam really has been rubbing off on you, hasn’t he?”

“Oh, shut up.” Ruby pulled her hand away, shaking her head. “Get out of here, Dean. Try to get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” Dean agreed. He slid out of the car, then leaned back in through the window. “Thanks, Ruby.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled at him, a real smile rather than her usual smirk, and Dean smiled back.

Sleep didn’t come easily that night. Dean was too preoccupied with imagining all the ways things could go wrong, all the terrible ways this could end. When he eventually did drift off, he woke up in a cold sweat what felt like minutes later. He tossed and turned all through the night, knowing he would do exactly the same again tomorrow. 

Two days, and Castiel’s fate would be decided.

He should have expected it, considering the way the demons had reacted to Castiel’s presence, but the size of the crowd gathered at City Hall Square still took Dean by surprise. Word travelled fast in a city this size, and especially among the supernatural portions of the population. A vampire duel was the stuff of legends, and its effects could ripple over them all. No wonder they all turned up to watch it unfold.

Dean stood with Sam, Ruby, and his mom, right at the front of the crowd. Other members of the Paranormal Investigations department were scattered around the square, uniformed and armed in case of chaos, but Sam had requested to attend as a civilian. Dean was quietly grateful for his presence, as always. A space had been left clear for the participants, and Dean moved as close to it as possible. He glanced up at the sky, the last rays of sun just disappearing behind City Hall. It was almost time.

“Dean?” His mother’s voice broke through his reverie. “The girls are here.”

Bringing his gaze back to the crowd, Dean saw Claire, Krissy, and Kaia pushing their way forward. Claire’s face was set in grim lines, and she was clinging tightly to Kaia’s hand. Without a word, Dean stepped forward and gathered her into his arms. She rested her head against his chest and exhaled shakily. 

“He’s going to be okay,” he said quietly. 

“Yeah.” Claire pulled away and wiped her face with the back of his hand. “Of course he is.”

“Come here.” Keeping an arm wrapped around her shoulders, he guided her back to where the rest of his family stood. “Mom, this is Claire. Figured it’s about time you two met.”

“Hi.” From Claire, that was a shockingly warm greeting, and she even managed a small smile. “You’ve got good taste in hiring people at your bakery, Mrs. Win--” she stumbled-- “Campbell?”

“Mary,” Dean’s mom said firmly. “And thank you, but Dean does most of the hiring.” She shot him a proud look, and Dean flushed. “He has good instincts for people, which is how I know we’re going to get along just fine.”

She moved aside to make room for Claire and the others. The square was packed, the spring breeze doing little to cool the air. Dean pulled at the collar of his shirt and let out a noisy breath, tapping his foot against the ground.

“Hey.” Sam’s big hand landed gently on his shoulder. “He’s here.”

Castiel approached from the other side of the square, flanked by Naomi on one side and Crowley on the other. Dean bit his lip as he took in the sight of him, dressed in black leather pants and a plain black t-shirt, hair unruly as ever. He looked calm and capable and utterly inhuman, his eyes carefully blank.

Until they met Dean’s across the square.

There was yearning there now, an apology, and so much fierce affection that Dean’s knees nearly gave out. Sam’s hand tightened on his shoulder, keeping him upright, as Dean looked at Castiel and mouthed, _I love you_. In response, Castiel lifted one hand and pressed it to his chest, right over his heart. 

A commotion in the opposite corner tore Dean’s gaze away. He saw Gadreel first, head and shoulders above most of the crowd. A smaller figure trailed in his wake, and Dean straightened up, taking his first look at Castiel’s opponent.

As his picture had shown, there was nothing particularly physically impressive about Marv. He was dressed in a simple grey jacket and jeans, his salt-and-pepper hair and beard untamed. What did give Dean pause, though, was the smile on his face as he walked through the crowd.

It was the smile of someone entirely confident in their victory. 

Marv and Castiel faced off in the centre of the square, only a few feet from Dean’s reach. They sized each other up, Castiel’s face betraying no reaction while Marv’s smile widened. 

“The rules are simple.” A figure Dean didn’t recognize, dressed all in white, stepped forward. “You may not use any weapons other than your own sway. The first to force their opponent to their knees will be the victor. The defeated party--” a terrible pause-- “will be granted quick and painless release from this world.”

Dean closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Castiel was looking directly at him, his eyes shining blue under the streetlights. 

Then he looked away, and the duel began.

To anyone standing further back, it must have looked like nothing was happening. Castiel and Marv stood perfectly still, all their attention focused on each other. But from where Dean was positioned, he could see the tiny movements that betrayed the effort they were both putting into staying so still. A twitch of an eyelid, a muscle jumping in the jaw. 

The slow trickle of a tear down a cheek.

Dean bit his lip so fiercely he almost drew blood. What was Marv forcing Castiel to relive that would bring him to tears? Using sway didn’t just mean commanding a person to act a certain way. It also meant the ability to project images into their mind, to control what they saw and what they remembered. 

No wonder even the victor needed time to recover after this.

The crowd began to murmur quietly after about fifteen minutes. Whispers rose through the square, commentary on the predicted outcome. Dean did his best to shut it all out, keeping his eyes fixed on Castiel’s face as though he could somehow lend him his strength, human as it was. 

There were beads of sweat rolling down both Marv and Castiel’s temples. From what Dean could tell, they were evenly matched. He looked at Naomi, standing on the other side of the duelists, and she gave a brief shake of her head.

Dean’s heart sank in his chest.

“Come on,” he whispered. He didn’t want to break Castiel’s concentration, but he couldn’t hold back the words. “Come on, Cas.”

It was probably just a coincidence, but a split second later, Marv’s left foot shifted back a step. There was a startled gasp from the crowd, and Castiel’s face betrayed a sharp flare of hope before settling back into impassive lines. 

That small slip must have renewed Marv’s commitment, because he didn’t move again for another ten minutes. Castiel’s hand flexed at his side, opening and closing a rhythmic motion. Suddenly, his shoulders spasmed as he bent forward at the waist, and Marv let out a triumphant sound.

Dean’s own small cry of distress was lost in the reactions of the crowd. Castiel recovered quickly, straightening back up, but it was the largest movement he had made so far, and the speculative glances many of the audience members were now casting at Marv proved its significance. Dean cast a helpless look at Claire, whose eyes were enormous in her pale face, and leaned more heavily against Sam, weak with worry.

He hadn’t seen her moving, but Naomi was at his side, face tight as she looked out at Castiel. “He can do this,” she said, her voice low. “Castiel was always the strongest of my circle. Strong enough to break from me, to set out on his own. He was not made to end this way.”

“I sure as hell hope not,” Dean replied. He looked at her again, the neat grey suit and no-nonsense hair, the lines around her eyes. “You do care about him, don’t you.”

She met his eyes, her own frank. “Yes.”

Dean nodded, turning his attention back to the duel. “Me too.”

It was only due to his nearness that Dean caught the first sign of impending victory: the gradual lowering of Marv’s back leg. Inhaling sharply, he looked up at Castiel’s face. It was tinged grey with exhaustion, but his eyes burned bright, his jaw fierce. He had one arm bent behind his back, a position that must have been horribly uncomfortable, but his feet were planted squarely and his legs were steady.

Marv’s were not. 

The smile had slipped from his face under the strain of the duel, and now it was replaced with a grimace. One hand rose to his mouth, covering it, as his back leg continued to move steadily downwards. Castiel wrenched his arm sharply free from behind himself, eyes flaring wide, and Marv’s knee hit the ground.

In the shocked silence, Dean let out a shaky breath. 

Castiel stepped forward, a terrible look on his face. Marv raised his head defiantly, but his other leg was trembling. Castiel stared at him, unblinking, and slowly, Marv’s second knee touched the ground.

Dean closed his eyes, holding back tears of relief. Sam’s hand squeezed his shoulder almost painfully tight, and even Naomi lost her composure, a shaky breath escaping her. 

He wanted to step forward, to sweep Castiel into his arms and never let him go, but the duel wasn’t over yet. 

The air in front of him whistled, a sharp wind rising out of nowhere. Dean blinked, and when his eyes focused again, a woman dressed all in black stood there, surveying the scene. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw his mother’s eyes widen, her face go pale, but he couldn’t look away long enough to determine why.

“The duel has been concluded,” the woman said. “Castiel.” Her gaze was cool, no expression on her face. “You have won.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Castiel made her a stiff bow, his usual careless grace absent. 

“And you.” She turned to Marv, and with a sharp motion of her hand, he gasped for breath. “Your final death awaits you. As a matter of courtesy, you may share your last words.”

Dean leaned forward, then recoiled the moment Marv began to speak. His voice was nasal, whining and grating at the same time. “I have nothing more to say,” he declared, which seemed like a bit of a contradiction to Dean. “I have fought for my vision, and it has not been brought to reality.” He shrugged. “In Purgatory, I will find power of my own.”

“Oh, no,” Crowley cut in, stepping forward with a grin. He offered a smart bow to the woman in black. “Billie, how nice to see you.”

“Crowley.” She dipped her head in acknowledgement. “What game are you playing?”

Crowley turned back to Marv, who looked suddenly uneasy. “The game of petitions, my lady. I humbly request that you turn this one over to me, to spend eternity in Hell and not in Purgatory. I can only assume from your personal presence here that his crimes have not escaped your notice.”

“Indeed,” Billie replied. She reached under her jacket and slowly withdrew an enormous scythe, and the pieces finally clicked into place.

She was a reaper. Or, if Dean understood Crowley’s insinuations correctly, the chief reaper. Death herself.

“And you, Castiel?” She turned to look at him, hand lingering on the wooden pole of her scythe. “What say you?”

He bowed again. “I trust to your wisdom, which is eternal and greater than mine.”

“Very pretty,” she said approvingly.

“This is not proper!” There was panic in Marv’s voice now, matched in his wide eyes. “Vampires are sent to Purgatory when they die.”

“No,” Billie said, a terrible smile on her face. “Those who die are sent where I will them. And haven’t you heard? Death is a capricious creature.”

She swung her scythe, and Marv’s body dissolved into shadows, melting into the ground at their feet. 

Clearing his throat, Crowley nodded in satisfaction. “That ought to be fun,” he remarked. “And I believe it is my cue to leave. I have a new soul to welcome to Hell, after all.”

He threw a sideways look in Dean’s direction as he passed. “If ever you should change you mind--”

“Don’t count on it,” Dean said tightly. “But thanks for this.”

The crowd was slowly dispersing, and Castiel was swaying on his feet. Dean moved forward and caught him before he fell. “Hey,” he murmured. “You were amazing.”

“Mmn.” Castiel looked up at him through bleary eyes. “That was unpleasant.”

“Totally badass, though.” Claire approached them, hugging her arms to her chest.

Castiel gave her a shaky smile, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. “I will savour the compliment for years.”

She rolled her eyes, but Dean could see the smile she was fighting to hold back. “Don’t get used to it,” she warned. 

“I won’t,” Castiel replied. “I will continue to be surprised and delighted by any display of sincerity or affection from you.”

“Dork,” Claire said, and threw herself into his arms.

Smiling to himself, Dean withdrew slightly to give them their space. His attention was immediately caught by Billie, who had moved to speak with someone in the crowd, someone with very familiar blonde waves of hair.

“Mom?” Dean frowned as he approached them. If Billie was Death, and she was talking to his mom-- a wave of foreboding swept over him. 

“Dean.” Mary didn’t look sick, or distressed. Actually, she looked-- shockingly happy. There was an enormous smile on her face and a rosy flush to her cheeks. “Sweetie, I’d like you to meet Billie.”

“Uh, hey.” Dean coughed, attempting a bow and probably making an idiot of himself in the process. “My lady.”

“You don’t need to stand on ceremony with me, boy.” There was a rich undercurrent of amusement in Billie’s voice. “This might be the first time we’ve met face to face, but I’ve been watching out for you your whole life.”

It wasn’t nearly as comforting a statement as Dean suspected she meant it to be. “Uh, not to be rude or anything, but why?”

Billie glanced at Mary, whose smile deepened. Reaching down, she took Billie’s hand in her own. “Dean, honey, you remember a few weeks ago when we had a little chat about love?”

A picture was forming in Dean’s mind, but it was too far-fetched, too improbable to consider. “Yeah.”

“Well.” Mary took a deep breath, tucking her hair behind her ear with her free hand. “When I said there was someone I loved before your father, I was talking about Billie.”

Dean shook his head slowly, trying to absorb it all. “You mean Death. You’re in love-- with Death.”

“I was just an ordinary Reaper when we first met,” Billie explained. “The night Mary’s mother died. She was twenty-one years old, and she cursed and yelled and threw things at me.” She turned a warm smile in Mary’s direction. “Stole my heart then and there. I wanted to petition the old Death to let her become a Reaper, immortal like me, but she was so young.”

“I had a lot of life to live still,” Mary continued, like Dean’s entire world wasn’t being rebuilt around him. At some point, Sam and Ruby had drifted over to join their conversation, and Dean could see his own shock reflected on his brother’s face. “I loved your father. Don’t ever doubt that. And I was never unfaithful to him.”

“I’ve been waiting a long time, Mary Campbell,” Billie said softly. “I’d wait even longer for you.”

Something was scratching at the edge of Dean’s mind. “This is why you’ve been pushing me to take over the bakery,” he said slowly. “You want to do it. To become a Reaper.”

“I do,” Mary answered. “To be with Billie.”

Sam blinked at her, but he managed a smile. “You should do what makes you happy, Mom.”

“Yeah,” Dean echoed roughly. Truth be told, he was still more than a little terrified of Billie, but he couldn’t deny that she was looking at his mom like she was the most priceless thing on Earth. “You can still come over for family dinners, though, right?”

“Of course.” Mary opened her arms, and both Sam and Dean stepped into her arms. “Lawrence is my home, and it always will be. And you will always be my first priority.”

“Dean?” Castiel came to join them, Claire still at his side. “Is everything alright?”

Dean honestly wasn’t sure how to answer that. But his mom was whispering softly to Billie, her eyes alight in a way Dean hadn’t seen them in years. Claire had slipped back over to stand beside Kaia, reaching down to take her hand. Sam and Ruby were laughing about something Dean didn’t catch, and Naomi was talking to the official in white, throwing proud glances over her shoulder at Castiel. Castiel, who was here, a little worse for wear but _here_.

“Yeah.” Dean slid his arm around Castiel’s shoulders, taking some of his weight. They’d have their work cut out for them, getting him back into shape. “I think it is.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a heads-up, there's some mild power dynamic roleplay towards the end here.

Two weeks after his duel with Marv, Castiel walked into the Roadhouse and ordered a glass of red wine. Jo flashed him a knowing smile as she placed the glass in front of him and said, “He’s just grabbing something from the back.”

“Thank you, Jo.” Castiel raised his glass and saluted her with it. “How is your evening progressing?”

“Busily,” she answered, rolling her eyes as someone yelled from the other end of the bar. “Gotta run.”

Castiel relaxed against the bar as he sipped his wine, looking out at the crowded room. The atmosphere was as joyful and raucous as ever. You would never guess that only two weeks ago, the fate of this city and all these people had hung in the balance.

Had hung on Castiel’s shoulders.

He lifted his free hand and examined it in the dim light of the bar. It was steady now, no hint of the tremble that had affected him for the past two weeks. Finally, he felt fully restored after the near-exhaustion that had followed the duel. 

“Fancy meeting you here.”

At the sound of Dean’s voice, Castiel turned slowly on his stool, smiling up at him. Dean had his forearms braced on the surface of the bar, a towel slung over one shoulder and a pleased look on his face. 

“I’ve become rather fond of this place,” Castiel replied. He slid his hand across the bar and squeezed Dean’s lightly. “How are you feeling?”

Dean sighed, looking around the room with wistfulness in his gaze. “It’s going to be weird coming in here and always being on your side of the bar,” he said, shrugging. “But it’s going to be nice to get my schedule in line. I’m getting too old for the way I’ve been doing things for the past few years.”

It was Dean’s last night working at the Roadhouse. After the surprising reveal of Mary’s involvement with Billie and the reason for her desire to hand the bakery over to Dean, he had decided to direct his energy there and give up his nights at the bar. It was a decision he hadn’t made lightly, and Castiel was impossibly proud of him for it. 

“You aren’t old,” he replied automatically. 

Dean grinned and snapped his towel at him. “Not compared to some people, maybe. But I’m a respectable small-business owner now. Comfortable middle-age is just a pair of reading glasses away.”

Castiel let his eyes sweep over the beautiful lines of his face. “You would look wonderful in glasses,” he murmured, and was thrilled to see Dean blush in response.

“I’ve got forty minutes left here,” he said, planting his hands on his hips. “And then--” He let his words trail off, his eyes lingering on Castiel’s mouth as he raised the glass of wine again. “And then we can celebrate both my new status as owner and manager of Campbell Cakes and Co. and your full recovery.”

“Those forty minutes will feel like an eternity.” Castiel swallowed his sip of wine deliberately slowly, watching Dean’s eyes darken with desire and feeling his own body stir in response.

“Soon,” Dean said firmly, and strode away to attend to a group of giggling girls in the corner booth.

Castiel watched him go, admiring the way his jeans had ridden low on his hips, all sorts of intriguing ideas presenting themselves to him. He was only torn from his thoughts as someone dropped onto the stool beside him, forcing his gaze away.

“I’m glad I only have to witness all this staring for one night,” Claire said. Her long hair was pulled back out of her way, and she was wearing a black t-shirt emblazoned with the Roadhouse’s logo across the front. “I might have to abuse my newfound power and kick you out.”

Castiel smiled at her, pride swelling in his chest. “And how is your first night going, Claire?”

She shrugged, adjusting her messy bun. “Okay so far. Ellen doesn’t take any shit from me or anyone else, and I like that about her.”

“Dean was right, then.” It had been his idea, to have Claire help out at the Roadhouse in his absence. It wasn’t pity, he insisted. He truly thought Ellen and Claire would get along, Ellen would need someone to pick up a few shifts, and the bakery hours weren’t convenient for Claire. Castiel had been hesitant at first, unsure if Claire was ready to take on that kind of responsibility, but it seemed Dean’s judgment had been correct.

“Don’t tell him that, though,” Claire warned. “He’ll never let us live it down.”

“Never,” Castiel agreed with a small smile. Claire smiled back, then playfully cuffed him on the shoulder as she stood.

“Gotta get back to it.” Her smile slipped for a second, betraying a hint of nervousness. “Are you still going to dinner at Mary’s on Wednesday?”

“It would be terrible manners to miss our first family dinner,” Castiel said. “It will be fine, Claire.”

“Yeah, sure,” she muttered under her breath. “A nice family dinner. Where one of the guests is Death. Like, literally. Death herself.”

“I liked Billie,” Castiel replied mildly. “And Dean says she makes Mary happy.”

Claire sighed heavily. “My life is weird.”

Reaching out, Castiel patted her shoulder. It never failed to send a bolt of happiness through him when she didn’t pull away from his touch. “You’ll become accustomed to it in time.”

“If you say so.” Someone called her name from the other end of the bar, and Claire trotted off with a careless wave goodbye.

Castiel slowly drank the last of his wine as he waited for Dean, remembering the first night he had come here in search of a reminder of his long-lost humanity. He had found it, not in a glass of wine, but in Dean. It was hard to believe how much had changed since that first night, when they were both caught up in their own preoccupations and their own preconceptions of what the other would desire. 

They had gotten much better at communicating since then.

“Hey.” A warm hand came to rest on Castiel’s shoulder as Dean pressed up behind him. “You ready to go?”

Castiel turned and smiled at him over his shoulder. “Yes.”

They waved goodbye to Claire and Jo, but Ellen was nowhere to be seen. “She’s hiding,” Dean confided. “Trying to pretend she isn’t getting emotional about me leaving, but I know she is.”

“You’ll still see her frequently,” Castiel said, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “And I don’t doubt that you’ll end up behind that bar again, even in an unofficial capacity.”

“You’re probably right,” Dean said with a laugh. Castiel opened the passenger side door for him, enjoying the way Dean flushed slightly even as he rolled his eyes. 

The drive back to Castiel’s only took about ten minutes, which they spent in comfortable silence. Now that the threat of danger had passed, they were learning to spend their time together differently. There was less urgency, less adrenaline, but no less enjoyment. It was a different kind of pleasure they took in each other’s company, the kind that could be sustained over a long period of time. 

Once inside, Dean immediately threw himself down onto the chaise with the ease of familiarity. Castiel moved around the room, lighting candles as he went, adjusting the vases of roses so they wouldn’t be in danger of catching fire. There were more of them than usual. All through his convalescence, they had arrived in bouquets, tokens of gratefulness from vampires in Lawrence and abroad. It was touching, humbling, and somewhat disconcerting.

He reached out and gently stroked the velvet-soft petal of the enormous crimson rose in the centre of the dozen Balthazar had sent. He was coming back to Lawrence, he had written, as Castiel would need someone to keep his ego in check now that he was passing from immortal being into immortal legend. 

The vampire who saved a city.

“They’re beautiful.”

Dean had snuck up behind him, which, considering Castiel’s above-average hearing, was impressive. “They are,” he agreed. “I just don’t know that I deserve them.”

Sighing, Dean pulled him close. “Cas,” he said firmly. “You put your life on the line for everyone in this city. Not just for yourself, or for Claire, or for the vampires. Death herself came to watch your duel. It was a big deal.”

“I know.” Castiel rested his head against Dean’s chest and let the steady beat of his heart soothe him. “At the time, it seemed the best course of action. But now--” he shrugged-- “I find myself rather overwhelmed by the aftereffects.”

“The respect and the admiration?” Dean said wryly. “That’s why everyone loves you so much, Cas. Because you went into that duel not competing with Marv for power, but out of a genuine desire to do good.”

“And I’ve ended up with the power anyway.” Castiel raised his head to meet Dean’s eyes. “Naomi always said I would make a good leader. I never wanted to be one. On further reflection, I wonder if that was ever true, or if I merely wished to not be like her.”

“Have you been brooding again?” Dean laughed and pressed a brief kiss to his lips. “Cas, whether you’re any type of official leader or not, you’re already acting like one. You took Claire in when she needed help, you’re getting all the other new vampires settled, you’re working with the blood bank and Sam’s crew to improve the system. You got Gadreel out of here, and you’re getting Balthazar back. Crowley respects you, the police know who you are and are definitely card-carrying members of your fan club. Crown or not, you’re the vampire king of Lawrence.” 

Castiel drew back, grimacing. “I don’t want to be king.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean raised a challenging eyebrow, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “You sure about that, _my lord_?”

All of Castiel’s protests died on his lips at the way Dean’s voice lowered and roughened on those last two words. “Dean--” he said, warningly.

“Are you sure you don’t want the admiration? The dedication? The obedience?” Dean slowly sank to his knees, looking up at Castiel from under his lashes. “You don’t want your loyal subjects to express their gratitude to you?”

Castiel shook his head. “Only you,” he said hoarsely. “Dean--” he let his hands drift downward until they rested lightly on Dean’s head-- “you’re certain?”

“Yes,” Dean answered. He met Castiel’s eyes steadily, no coyness there now. “Are you?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied swiftly. At Dean’s nod, he tightened his hands in his hair, watching as Dean’s eyes fluttered closed. “I believe you said something about expressing your gratitude.”

“Yes, my lord,” Dean murmured. With agonizing slowness, he unzipped Castiel’s pants and slid them down his legs, his boxers following. “Let me show you my appreciation.”

Castiel drew in a sharp breath as Dean’s warm mouth closed over his thigh, working its way upwards. He trailed kisses over the cut of Castiel’s hips, the lowest part of his stomach, and then down the other side. Returning to the middle but ignoring Castiel’s rapidly-hardening cock, he nipped lightly at the spot where leg met torso, making Castiel hiss in pleasure. 

“You’ve needed your time to recover, my lord,” Dean continued, wrapping one hand loosely around the base of Castiel’s cock. “I’ve waited a long time to express my gratitude.” He began to move his hand, torturously slow. “I had time to think about this. About how strong you were, how strong you always are. How you always protect those in need.”

Castiel shuddered, Dean’s words of praise intensifying the sensations of his hands and mouth working in tandem, still scattering occasional kisses around Castiel’s torso and thighs. “You looked so powerful that day, in all your leather.” He laughed, breaking character for just a moment. “God, Cas, you looked so fucking hot.” 

With a huff of amusement, Castiel stroked a slow finger down Dean’s cheek. “You taught me to embrace my dramatic side.”

Dean leaned into the touch, and as he did, he turned his head to press a kiss to the base of Castiel’s cock. Castiel swore under his breath as Dean moved his head, working his way along his shaft with light, brief kisses that set a fire coursing through his veins. “I couldn’t please you the way I wanted to that day,” Dean continued. “Will you let me do so now, my lord?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, eyes fluttering closed. 

“No.” Dean drew back, and the loss of contact had Castiel looking down at him again. “I want you to watch me.”

Mouth dry, Castiel could only nod as Dean leaned forward and took him fully in his mouth. Letting loose a groan, he twined his hands in Dean’s hair and surrendered himself to the pleasure.

Dean’s lips and tongue worked him with precision, hands braced on Castiel’s thighs. He swirled his tongue around the tip of Castiel’s cock and Castiel swore again, hips thrusting forward involuntarily. 

Pulling off, Dean looked up at him again, green eyes glinting in the candlelight. He was still fully dressed, and while Castiel might have counted that a tragedy under other circumstances, he couldn’t deny that it added a certain edge to their current activities. “Let go, my lord,” Dean murmured. “Don’t hold yourself back.”

Castiel exhaled slowly, cupping Dean’s face in his hand. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes. Fuck my mouth.”

The filthy words had their intended effect as Castiel’s hips shifted instantly, insistently. Dean kept his mouth slack, eyes wide and fixed on Castiel’s as he drew back and then pressed forward again, slowly at first but with gathering speed as Dean made no move to protest. A quick glance downward revealed the bulge of his own erection against his jeans, and seeing the physical evidence that Dean was also enjoying this loosed Castiel’s last inhibitions.

“Dean,” he murmured, watching with fascination as his cock disappeared between those perfect pink lips and emerged again. “God.”

The trust in Dean’s eyes was almost too much to bear. He was the one on his knees, and yet Castiel was the one who felt humbled. It was an enormously generous gift Dean was giving him, and the magnitude of it only increased his pleasure in accepting it. 

His hips stuttered slightly, his rhythm faltering with his climax approaching. “Dean,” he said again, his voice rough. 

Dean drew back, mouth slick and swollen, eyes shining. “Have I pleased you, my lord?”

“Yes.” Castiel lowered one hand from his hair to rub his thumb across Dean’s cheekbone. “Yes, you have.”

“Show me your pleasure,” Dean murmured. He licked his lips in a slow, deliberate movement. “Let me taste it.”

With another groan, Castiel sank back into the welcoming heat of his mouth. There was no finesse, no control now. He moved restlessly, pushing into Dean’s mouth and pulling out again, both hands back in his hair. As he felt the first wave of his orgasm hit, he sank forward as deeply as he could and let the bliss overtake him.

When the euphoria receded, he opened his eyes to see Dean staring up at him, a smug smirk on his face and a drop of Castiel’s release clinging to his lip. “I knew you had a secret nobility kink,” he said. His voice was absolutely wrecked, and Castiel shuddered at the sound of it. 

“Yes,” Castiel said, drawing him up by the shoulders and pulling him in for a kiss. “You’re very clever.”

He could taste himself on Dean’s lips. He deepened the kiss, chasing the flavour, and felt Dean stiffen in his arms for a moment before going limp. He could feel Dean’s erection pressing against his leg and he shifted his hand down between them, brushing lightly against it and making him groan.

“Let me return the courtesy,” he suggested, but Dean shook his head.

“Later,” he gasped out. “Right now, just let me--” He ground himself shamelessly against Castiel’s thigh, clearly already on the brink of coming. Castiel slipped his hands down and gripped his backside, pulling him even closer. He trailed his lips along the line of Dean’s jaw and down his neck, hearing the hitch in his breathing as he did. 

Deliberately, he nudged the collar of Dean’s shirt aside and sucked a mark into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Dean made a high, keening noise, and shuddered in his arms, head slowly dropping to rest against Castiel’s shoulder. 

“Fuck,” he murmured. “I knew I was worked up, but Christ.” He grimaced, shaking his head. “Now my pants are a mess.”

“There’s a simple solution to that,” Castiel told him. “Take them off.”

Laughing, Dean tilted his head up for a kiss. “Now who’s the clever one?”

“I have my moments,” Castiel said. He brushed a light kiss across Dean’s lips and reached down to take his hand. “Let’s go get cleaned up.”

They stripped down and stepped into the shower together, kissing lazily. At Dean’s prodding, Castiel turned and allowed him to wash his hair with gentle hands. This time, he did return the favour, massaging Dean’s scalp with his fingertips and making him sigh in contentment. Under the warm spray, their soap-slick hands wandered until they were pressed together from head to toe, reaching their peak at the same time. They kissed until the water began to run cold, then reluctantly emerged.

It was still early for Castiel, but it had been a long night for Dean. They curled up together in his enormous bed, not bothering with clothes. Dean wrapped himself around Castiel’s body, resting his damp head on his chest. Castiel traced lazy circles on Dean’s bare back, eyes closed in sated contentment.

“Cas?” He opened his eyes again at the sound of Dean’s voice. “You fall asleep on me?”

“No.” Castiel tightened his arms around him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“As grand and pretentious as it sounds, the future.” 

Dean propped himself up on one elbow, looking down into his face. “Our future?” There was a trace of uncertainty in his voice.

“Partially.” Castiel smiled up at him, hoping it would be reassurance enough. “You’re a part of my life, Dean. A very important one. But I have no doubts about our future.”

“Must be nice,” Dean muttered, flopping back down. “I love you, Cas, and I believe you when you say you love me too. But we both know it isn’t going to be easy.”

“No,” Castiel agreed quietly. There were conversations they had skirted around-- the fact that Dean would age while Castiel wouldn’t. What their future living arrangements might look like. How their schedules might line up, even with Dean working only at the bakery now. 

“Then again,” Dean said slowly, rolling over to face him once more. “Sam and Ruby figured it out. Mom and Billie did, for Christ’s sake. Apparently, falling for eternal beings of darkness runs in the family.”

Castiel raised one eyebrow at him. “So that’s all it is, then? A family predilection?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” He leaned over and kissed him fiercely. “You know it isn’t. It isn’t because you’re a vampire, or even because you’re now the most powerful vampire in the city.” His eyes lit with mischief. “As fun as that has proved.” He kissed him again, softer this time. “It’s just you, Cas. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“And if I do continue down this path?” Castiel asked, finally daring to voice the question that had been burning inside him. “If I do establish myself in some way, if I take on the role of protector of the city, where does that leave you?”

“Exactly where I am now,” Dean said firmly. “In this giant bed, on silk sheets, with my sexy vampire boyfriend.” He shrugged, a rather distracting movement considering his lack of clothing. “Other places too, I guess. Are there conventions for this kind of thing? I could be your date.”

Castiel’s relief bubbled out from his chest in the form of laughter. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But if there are, I would want no one else by my side.”

“Good.” Dean leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Castiel’s chest, right over his heart. “I know ‘forever’ means kinda different things for the two of us, but I want you to know, I’m in this forever.”

Throat tight, Castiel could only nod. 

“And besides,” Dean continued, grinning, “who knows what will happen? It’s only been what, forty years since we found out about the things that go bump in the night?”

“About that, yes.”

“We’ve already made so much progress. The blood banks, the lycanthropy support groups-- and now all the wild stuff Charlie and her team are working on. They’ve already figured out how to make shift-suppressants for the weres. You never know-- some sort of incredibly strong sunscreen could be next.” He patted Castiel’s cheek. “Keep this gorgeous skin from burning up in daylight.”

For the most part, Castiel was at peace with who-- and what-- he was. But he couldn’t deny that the thought of such a marvel appealed to him. “I would like to stand in the sunlight with you,” he admitted quietly.

“Yeah.” Dean smiled down at him. “We could even go on vacation somewhere.”

“I am rather terribly wealthy.” Castiel spread his hand against the surface of the bed. “Silk sheets don’t come cheap.”

“Worth every penny,” Dean muttered as he wriggled against them with a noise of pleasure. “Just think about it, Cas. Sand and sun, skimpy little Speedos.” He let his hand drift down to Castiel’s thigh.

Castiel closed his eyes, imagining it. It had been so long since he had stood in the light of the sun. What would it be like, to feel its warmth on his face again?

Opening his eyes, he met Dean’s, radiating love and acceptance, and then he knew. 

Reaching down, he drew Dean’s head back against his chest and settled against the sheets with a contented sigh. For now, they would steal their moments together in the dark, but the future had never looked brighter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please remember to leave some love for Aceriee and her stunning artwork on [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18642664) or on [tumblr](https://missaceriee.tumblr.com/tagged/tropefest19superhoney) (links will be updated after art goes live)


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